Heart of Chaos
by Chris000
Summary: In the grim darkness of the far future there is only war. There exists a prison at the center of the galaxy and its occupant seeks freedom. It has almost succeeded. The UNSC. Mobius and their Allies, in an attempt to stall if not kill the Prisoner outright must venture to another universe to seek Chaos Energy. Their searches brought them to a world they are unprepared for.
1. Forward

Heart of Chaos

C.R. Vennettilli

The Chaos Chronicles

February 6, 2016

Forward,

I've been writing this series since I was thirteen years old. It's been about ten years since penning the first, really odd story where two universes that seemed completely unrelated were smashed together. Something seemed to fit for me. Two universes which had potential to have dark mysteries, but at the same time incredible action or even emotional development. I love the Sonic universe as well as the Halo universe. This diverging timeline should not be seen as an attempt to usurp canon storylines since these events take place in their own continuity which even references the core comics.

Rules are made to be broken. I've said goodbye to some characters that I thought would never go. I have to realize that there's still a story going on and they will be there whether or not they're alive and kicking. It's part of growing up as a writer and as a character – as well as distancing myself from a few obvious problems with such a character.

There's still plenty of story going on. The Prisoner is a threat that lies outside of Space and Time. It has been biding its time, which from its perspective may as well be infinite. From the core of its cage, a supermassive black hole known to us as Sagittarius A*, The Prisoner has forgotten all, even its own name, except for the lust to control. Whoever locked it away in this place trusted the laws of the universe to hold this thing in place. However, such a place where laws break down provide perfect opportunity to break out. The Prisoner's cage has been weakened. A switch tripped. But in the end, it simply wished to try again because it knows this time it has a fair shot. Just what does the Prisoner have in store for the galaxy? For every single galaxy in existence? Whatever it was, it resulted in his sentence to the Singularity by a force that coexisted with the Precursors.

But we're not ready to face him yet. There are still steps that need to be taken. Two groups of people are on two different paths. One is on his way to wake a man who fought the Prisoner before but lost.

The others are on a significantly different path. A bloodier path that not everyone will return from.

Because in the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.

Thank you for sticking with me. I know this series isn't the most popular or the most talked about, but I wanted to try and stand out. I am proud of this series and every single man and woman, boy and girl that clicked on a profile or a story and gave it a read. You have my thanks.

Well, enough with the waxing emotional.

Now we will soon begin Chapter 1. Buckle up folks. Time for another trip through the Jumpgate.


	2. Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter 1: Prologue

9,500 years before Array Activation

The Galactic Center

Incredible light surrounded the two million ships that approached the center of the galaxy. The massive slipspace bubble that contained them all was starting to unfold. The end of their trip was in sight. Multiple connecting jumps between the Ecumeme and what was now positively identified as the Prison had the Warrior-Servants edging for battle. They had spent a long time in transit, an expensive time. Moving this much mass was taxing on the Ecumene's reconciliation budget. Such mass being picked up and moved took much energy.

Of course, this meant nothing to the Promethean known as Shadow-of-a-Sundered-Star. Economics, budgetary complaints, and the quibbling of the Builders couldn't even pierce his concentrated mind. The Forerunner, also known as the Didact, stood at the head of his command bridge peering out at the unfolding bubble. Thousands of Warrior Servants flanked him going about their duties.

"Didact," one quipped. A female named Trial-of-Nulled-Strike moved symbols around her console. "We revert to realspace in three minutes."

"And so we shall see the Prison." the Promethean announced. "Very well. Give orders to the fleet to prepare to split into formation. I want us around that station before its defenses activate."

"I will do as you command." Trial nodded. "Your Prometheans are standing by."

The Didact nodded. His combat skin folded around him and he breathed deep before turning to his men. He had several million of them aboard his flagship, the _Mantle's Approach_. Each would march to the end of Living Time to fulfill their duties. They were just about there in any case.

"Warriors! You have trained long and hard to serve the Mantle and all that it asks of you! Since you were all babes you know of the horrors that this galaxy may present. This is beyond anything that we ever could have expected. You're ready for this though. I can feel it. We pierce the Prison, kill the bastard once and for all. Prometheans will be heading the assault on the station, but I need those defenses down. That's what the fleet will be for. No surrender, brothers and sisters! The Mantle protects all!"

"The Mantle protects!"

"Reverting to realspace now!"

Two million assault and support ships appeared seemingly in the middle of nothing. It was exactly where they needed to be. The black hole was beyond massive. It covered the viewscreen of every ship in the fleet. Two million ships were dwarfed by the massive sphere of nothing. The light of stars curved around the photon sphere of the event horizon. The light from stars of times ancient were stuck here forever. Indeed, the history of the universe was trapped here.

The Didact was not impressed by the immensity of it all.

"Helm, locate the station."

"We arrived in a good location. Heading four degrees by 19 degrees. It is on an equatorial orbit."

"Have half the fleet hold position near the orbiting star."

"Aye."

"I want the rest of the fleet moving in now!"

The Didact left as he spoke his orders. The ten thousand warrior servants on the bridge turned with him and flanked their commander. They would make for their boarding crafts.

One million _Fortress_ -class vessels broke towards the event horizon. They were still safe where they were, but they needed to get much closer. That station was the key to getting to the Prison. Within a hour of flight, they could see it. It was a massive skeletal structure that resembled a dead flower in space with petals that extended from one end. It was of no construction that the Forerunners could ever decipher. It was not even of Precursor make. Whoever built this station was… different.

One of the command vessels chimed in. " _This is Conquering Vengence! We have positive identification of Caretaker vessels! They are moving to intercept!_ "

" _Then it will be a glorious death in combat!_ " The _Komata Badu_ 's commander said. " _Requesting permission to engage Caretakers_ _!_ "

" _This is Mantle's Approach. You have permission to engage! All fleet commanders open fire on enemy vessels! Burn the squids!_ "

One million lances of energy shot from the Ecumene fleet. They crossed space at the speed of light intercepting the enemy vessels. They were bulbous craft that seemed more like jellyfish than spacecraft. An ocean-going alien race crewed them. They had pledged themselves to this Prisoner to millions of years. A servant race. No more than slaves.

 _Then there's no guilt in freeing them from servitude_ , Commander Isolate-with-Stride-and-Power thought as he ordered another lance of energy to slice a Caretaker vessel in half. Engine coolant and water flash froze in the vacuum. It was ironic to think that a race that evolved in an ocean was terrible at ship to ship combat in space, since they were closer together than one would think. In the time it took to complete that thought, thirty percent of all Caretaker vessels surrounding the station had been wiped out completely.

The Forerunner vessels changed tactics. Now that forty percent of their vessels were clear of enemy fire, they could begin the assault of the station's defenses. A thick shield surrounded the structure itself. It was more to keep intruders out than to protect the station. Four hundred thousand vessels took charge and converged on the massive structure. Even their ships seemed small in comparison.

" _To all attacking vessels, I want all fire to be concentrated onto a single point. Warrior servants will be_ _inserting into the craft upon shield piercing!_ "

" _The Didact commands it!_ " The _Polliandus_ said. " _Open fire immediately!_ "

Energy beams thinned and narrowed as the shield around the station was struck. An aura of deep cobalt surrounded the Prison. Electric storms formed as excited particles formed from the interaction of energy on the film. Eventually, parts of the shield flickered.

" _There is our opening!_ " The Didact roared. " _All Warrior-Servants move in now! Throw ourselves upon the breach in the shield!_ "

All across the fleet, millions upon millions of insertion craft blasted away from their parent ships to punch through the gap opened by the fleet's cannons. The Didact knew that it was partially a suicide move. Not every group would make it through.

Well over twenty million groups of Warrior-Servants streaked towards the breach moving at close to the speed of light. An ancilla controlled each boarding craft and they communicated with each other so that it was more or less single file.

The Caretakers though realized what the Forerunner planned to do. The remainder of their fleet opened fire on the boarding craft. Several scored hits. Each destroyed craft puffed in an explosion. Thousands died in a single stroke per craft. By the time the first pod crossed the breach, the Warrior Servants sustained two million casualties to defensive fire.

The Caretakers were relentless though, choosing to swoop around the Forerunners and blast the rearward craft. This was effective and their jellyfish-shaped craft maneuvered well to counteract the Forerunner advance.

" _Didact, Xorda fightercraft and killing our rear guard!_ " A Promethean warrior cried.

" _We have no choice!_ " The Didact responded. " _Either we advance or we all die!_ "

The Warrior-Servants punched through the break in the shields before it could repair itself. Support craft continued to fire on the station's shielding to keep it from coming back. The station which seemed small at a distance was gigantic, easily larger than any 10 Fortress-class vessels put together. This station was well over five hundred kilometers in length. The closer the ships got, the more intricate the designs appeared. Layers upon layers of what looked like carvings of alien faces and characters that didn't even resemble Forerunners in the slightest. The insertion teams were moving far too quickly to even notice it.

" _Warriors! To that exposed section! We land and enter!_ "

The single stream of pods broke away like a fountain each spreading to different portions of what looked like an exposed interior over twenty kilometers wide. The ships landed quickly and effectively dropped off their Warrior-Servants. The Didact jumped from his craft and landed on the alien metal. The gravity was high, but not unpleasant to him.

He saw many more of the pods land. Several though were being shot at by defenses of the station. The weapons they used were enough to make him stare in shock. The turrets, if they could truly be called such, fire what appeared to be black holes themselves. Entire portions of space collapsed into tiny singularities that were fired at the pods. When the bubble of whatever ancient weapon it was collapsed, the evaporating hole in spacetime exploded with incredible energy that wiped scores of Warrior-Servant ships out entirely, atomizing them in a powerful explosion.

"Does the _Mantle's Approach_ hear me?"

" _We do!_ " the Promethean aboard responded. " _The Xorda are proving to be little challenge, but the station is now opening fire at us!_ "

The station fired two glowing things that the Didact could not comprehend. Twin orbs of light streaked away at an incredible rate towards the distant battlefields. After a time, what appeared to be a supernova erupted.

"By the Mantle… did this thing… just fire neutron stars?" It was the Didact's lieutenant, Endurance-of-Will that said this. Endurance was a longstanding and close friend of the Didact. It took much to frighten her. This weapon launched an attack that destroyed two hundred and fifteen ships. The Didact's ancilla whispered the casualties into the Promethean's ear.

"Dammit! We have little time! This station's ripping our fleet apart! Leave the Xorda! They pose no threat! Warriors! To me! We storm the station! There isn't a damn thing this Prisoner can do to stop us!"

'Then I welcome you into my home'.

The words. The Didact perceived them as being right in front of him, but there was no speaker. The noise they made could not be understood. It came from far away and near. Loud and soft, scratched but clear. Every syllable that forced itself into his understanding clawed at his brain and soothed him at the same time. Pain was an understatement. Several weak willed Warrior-Servants dropped dead simply by the strain of listening to it. They simply fell over and twitched.

"What the hell is this?" Endurance asked. "They're dead!"

"This thing's speaking to us!" the Didact said. "It's challenging us!"

'Come. Fail as those that came before you did.'

Two hundred more dead, brains hemorrhaged at the sound of its voice.

"Move! Leave them!" The Didact said. He led a charge towards two massive doors, the panels being two kilometers high. How they would get in though was something of a mystery. He consulted his ancilla on the matter.

But before a suggestion was given, it opened on its own. Nearly noiselessly a fissure appeared in it and an entire army of Xorda Caretakers spilled into the area. Each clad in an environmental suit which gave the impression of pitch black floating orbs with a single white eye. Weaponry was attached all over their suits. Both sides opened fire at exactly the same time. Whole salvos from millions of Warrior-Servants created an almost solid wall of blue white energy that streaked towards the attackers. The Carteakers came down with bloody streaks trailing them. Several simply exploded from taking too many energy blasts. As the Forerunners made a marching advance to the station's interior, the aliens made a comeback. They in turn fired their own weapons, needle-like shards and nuclear weaponry, into the approaching horde. Several sustained energy weapons also streaked towards the Warrior-Servants.

Explosions rocked the Forerunners. Whole columns vanished into fire.

"Maintain discipline!" the Didact roared. "Cowards will be dealt with! We take the control center!" Another row fell to the needle shards. They cried in pain as the weaponry punched through their armor and burrowed deep into their skin. The shards then detonated blowing the Warriors apart, raining blood and armor bits on their allies. Several columns were noticeably spooked now.

" _Didact! We have lost seven percent of our fleet reserves! Those station cannons need to be eliminated!_ " _Mantle's Approach_ said in panic. " _Requesting we call in some of our reinforcements to bolster our defense!_ "

"You will do no such thing!" the Didact said. "We are not endangering the other half of our fleet! We are right at the edge of our objective!"

"I… _understand…_ " the Promethean responded. " _What would you have us do?_ "

"Buy us some more time! We're almost in! I need War Sphinxes! I request a full wing at once!"

" _Understood! War Sphinxes are inbound as we speak!_ "

Seventy-two angular pods burst through the exposed panel of the station six minutes and five thousand lives later. They unfolded into massive war machines. The War Sphinxes stood at three times the high of a hardy Warrior-Servant, had an experienced pilot at the controls, and had enough weaponry to level a city with sufficient time. With ten one could secure a region. With twenty, one could control a continent. Seventy two however would be enough to subjugate an entire world and beyond. They were going to be used to concentrate force on an area just over four square kilometers.

"Sphinxes! Select targets and fire at will!" The Didact roared. "Send the bastards to hell!"

They went to work. The Sphinxes crossed the distance in mere seconds. Their hardlight wings unfolded and sliced Xorda in half. The squid-like aliens didn't stand a chance. The Sphinxes engaged them in close combat – something these pathetic creatures had no experience in.

For a solid hour the Forerunners pressed up to the door with the War Sphinxes giving cover by slaughtering any Caretaker that poked their head through the doors. The surface around the massive portal was littered with Xorda bodies that lay in their deflated environmental suits. Entire pools of water formed in the carved sections of the walkway. Dying Xorda gasped in the air as their gills couldn't filter anything at all from it.

The Warrior-Servants continued to fire as the Didact and Endurance-of-Will took their own forces towards the massive door. Endurance raised both of her arms, each holding a Z-110 Energy Pistol. Two Boltshots she lovingly cared for called Closed Fist and Open Hand. Each fired bolts of hard light that streaked towards attacking Caretakers. Inside her combat skin, Endurance grinned in the slaughter she initiated. The bolts guided themselves towards their targets, putting them down in spirals of blood. She roared in joy as she tore down the opposition.

The Didact was flanked by ten elite Prometheans that he hand-selected for the mission. Each armed with a Signet, a handcrafted weapon that Shadow-of-a-Sundered-Star placed together each bit of metal at a time. Their weapons unfolded as they took aim at the Caretakers. Running at an impressive clip, the Prometheans opened fire on moving targets, each hitting their mark without fail.

" _Didact! We've lost ten percent of our fleet strength!_ "

One hundred thousand ships were gone, and millions of lives aboard them. He couldn't concentrate on that. He was so close.

"We will not abandon this mission!" he screamed. "Warriors forward! Crush them under your heels! I want all Sphinxes to engage any and all targets! Tear them asunder!"

Xorda fighters braved taking dives at the Promethean soldiers. Blobs of plasma cut into the army, vaporizing Prometheans and wounding dozens more which fell to the ground in pain.

But against all the odds, the Didact, Endurance, and his elite Prometheans made it inside of the door. It led to what he was hoping to find – a computer room. If it could be called a computer room.

The Xorda were still poring overhead. The Didact fired his weapons, a Binary Rifle that he waved through the air to cut swathes into the now retreating Caretakers. They had taken this room. The aliens had been so adamant to try and defend it, but why?

Massive explosions of matter and antimatter continued to go on outside. The stations' defenses launched singularities as well as neutron weaponry. It seemed like the Caretakers were pulling back to the nearby stars that orbited the black hole. The Didact had to smile at the thought of them seeking refuge, only to be taken down by his forced he stationed there as an escape route.

"Didact! Down!" Endurance shouted. The Warrior-Servant fired her Z-110s just over the Forerunner commander's head. They holed an alien with hard light. Water evaporated into steam from the breaches in the suit. The alien inside collapsed and died with tentacles twitching.

"We must seal this door!" one of the elite Prometheans said! "Didact! We need Huragok!"

"Agreed!" the Didact nodded. He ordered his ancilla to request reinforcements. Within thirty seconds, the _Mantle's Approach_ launched what seemed like conical shards. The self-guided munitions accelerated to incredible speeds and punched through the station's shields. The supporting vessels gave another push. The _Adumate_ gave its life to let the Huragok through, keeping the shield breach open long enough before being blown away by an artificial nova.

The Huragok pod landed in front of the massive door. It didn't pierce the ancient flooring, instead bouncing on the ground and sliding through the gate halting not a hundred feet away from the Didact. The conical pod unfolded as parts of it drifted away to let out the Huragok, six-eyed biological computers that floated with gas sacks. They chirped as they floated through the air, eager to get to work.

"Let's hope they know what to do!" another Promethean said. Cut-of-a-Striking-Hand was his name. Not a day over two thousand. Not bad for a warrior. Brash, but easily with potential.

"Give those Huragok cover as they access the system!" The Diadct roared. He pulled his Binary Rifle to his shoulder and burned holes through three Caretakers.

Several thousand Warrior-Servants made it through the door, though millions were still out there holding off whatever was being thrown at them. The Didact realized that as soon as those doors closed, there would be no way to get them in unless they could open the doors again.

The Huragok quizzically looked at what they determined was the computer console, though it in no way resembled one. When they got close, they started chirping to one another twitching their tentacles. One of them blinked four of its six eyes and started to sing to the machine.

Harmonics. The damn gasbags managed to realize the computer worked through pulses of sound waves instead of physical input! The other engineers caught on and began to follow suit, raising and lowering the pitches of their voices to try and talk to the computer. Something clicked as the system responded. Several flashes of light in different colors came about, and a song of deep pitch responded. The Huragok altered their tenor and hummed back. Some formed harmony with one another and acted as a duet or a trio. How many voices did the creators have? Could a single being even access the computer at all?

A fighter tried to clear the doorway with no success. The Caretaker ship did not approach at the correct angle and hit one of the walls. It split in half, roiling in flame as the debris flew over the Prometheans' head and slammed into the far wall. Burning fuel tumbled to the stonework below.

"This is taking too long." Endurance said.

"We have no choice but to wait!"

The Huragok stopped. They all bobbed their heads. The doors slid shut. Several hundred more Prometheans managed to get through before the portal was sealed. Whoever was on the outside needed to fend for themselves. Several commanders cried of this and the Didact ordered them quiet.

"The Huragok appear to have cracked the system." his ancilla whispered. "They are now manipulating the controls."

"We need access to the conduit to access the Prison itself."

The ancilla communicated with the Engineers. A series of clicks, trills, and hums came from the Didact's combat skin. The Huragok all turned to face him, eyes wide and awaiting instruction. One purred in response and got to work. The machine bellowed to it again, this time in the Ultrasonic spectrum, which thankfully the Engineers could understand. They could also see the Ultraviolet signals this 'console' was emitting. They were being given instructions by the 'machine'.

The Warrior-Servants stood uncomfortably with Light Rifles held at the ready, each standing and watching the corridors wondering if Caretakers would come, but no more did.

Endurance shifted her weight. "Something is wrong."

"What is it?"

"It's just a feeling, Didact. The Huragok are speaking to that computer a lot."

"For all we know it is the only way to interface with it. _Mantle's Approach_ , what is your status?"

" _Damaged but operational, Didact! We have sustained damage, but all systems are functioning! We have pulled back away from the station and are holding position thirty million kilometers away!_ "

"I gave you no such order to do so!"

" _You didn't_?"

"Do not test my patience in a time such as this! Who gave you that order?"

" _The Huragok, Didact!_ "

"The _Huragok_ told you?!"

'How easy it is to corrupt a creature that simple.'

The voice of it. It spoke once more. Several Warrior-Servants died at once at its thunderous presence. One of the Huragok began to scream and attack its fellows. It managed to kill another before the Didact vaporized it with a shot of his rifle.

"We've been tricked." he said, and he realized it far too late. "It's corrupted the Huragok!"

"Corrupted?" Endurance of Will asked. "What do you mean?!"

"It's done… something to them!" he told his ancilla, "Order them to open the doors again!"

"They will not listen." it responded. "They are actively ignoring my orders!"

One of the Huragok rumbled in happiness and reported its work to the Didact.

"It says that it disabled access to this panel and all others. It says that reactivation requires remote unlocking."

"What?! No!" The Didact screamed in horror. "No! Unlock it you bastards! Unlock the machine!"

'You will not.'

All the Huragok died at once. Their gas sacks exploding and their brains simply shutting down.

'I will wait eons more if I must. You will not take me.'

"I order all ships to return now! Disregard any and all orders relayed by Huragok! If they attempt to override, kill them!"

" _Mantle's Approach acknowledges! We are returning at flank speed now! Inbound in ten minutes!"_

 _'_ How fragile. If this was the best you could do, I am disappointed. Hundreds of years of planning, millions of lives. To fail at the end of your journey.'

Choruses of screams all around him. Forerunners were killing themselves and others to make the pain stop. The Didact could only imagine what was going on outside the doors. How many more were dying just to make the noise stop.

"We're trapped!" Striking-Hand said. "We can't get out!"

"We will find another way! Follow me!" The Didact picked a hallway and went down it. The surviving Warrior-Servants followed. The remained continued to battle themselves or lay dead with blood mixing into a small lake.

The hallways were massive, each hundreds of feet high. The great black hole ironically provided all of the lighting. The Didact could see the edge of the event horizon as he looked up. Starlight curved around it. It was intensely bright, and resembled sunrise around a planet, except that sunrise came from every angle around the event horizon. The light illuminated the hallway clearly. The beauty could not dispel the horror of the situation though.

Twenty minutes of running later, they had a means to escape. The hallway came to what appeared to be fully exposed space. Knowing the high tech nature of the station, it was not quite so. There was a direct plunge through the station though. Perhaps this was once a docking center for massive ships that came here. The Didact made a quick decision.

"Warriors! We jump!"

"Did you say 'jump'?" Endurance asked.

"Try to keep up." the Forerunner smirked. " _Mantle's Approach_ , I want recovery craft moving now to our position! We are leaving the station!"

" _The shield will not allow for that!_ "

"We aren't using ships! Track my coordinates and send craft once we are clear!"

He looked at the gap below. It went on for what seemed to be forever. The darkness below seemed to be calling to him. Urging him to jump. He couldn't keep it waiting. He jumped. His faithful Warrior-Servants followed him.

'Unexpected.'

The Didact and the rest of the Forerunners gained speed, quickly falling past unknowable layers of the station. They passed machines that could barely be recognized. Ancient hallways that still bore marks of their creators. In the time it took them to fall, the Didact began to wonder just what the Prisoner had been imprisoned for, and more importantly, where its jailors went. A tomb orbiting silently in the void. The Didact realized then that this tomb would hold the bodies of millions of Warrior-Servants. He had failed them. The mission had been a complete loss. The Prisoner had so easily beaten them. It barely did anything and his fleet had been torn apart. The ancilla informed him that on approach, a further twenty five percent of the surviving vessels sustained losses. He did not ask for the casualties.

The Warrior Servants continued to pick up speed, becoming like speeding meteors passing through the station. Some failed to maneuver around the shifting geometry of the station and were killed instantly from impact. Most however steered and cut through the air well enough until they shot through the bottom of the exposed section after nearly ten minutes of free-fall. The Didact looked above and saw the station rise up and away from them. Below him was the curve of the supermassive void. He could see bent light from the stars form a bulge around it. Red shifted photons from millions of years ago drew his attention. Only then he saw his ships coming for him.

" _You have passed the shield, Didact! You're alive!_ "

"Our velocity must have been slow enough to prevent activation. A poor hole in their defenses. We wasted lives getting here."

" _I am sending recovery craft now!_ "

'I will give you more than that.'

" _Wait, something's wrong_." A _Fortress-_ Class said. " _Gravitational fluctuations! We're losing power!_ "

" _Engines have seized up!_ " Another said. " _We're losing altitude!_ "

"What is this dark magic?" The Didact said.

" _Didact, we're losing the fleet! It's getting pulled into the singularity!_ "

"That's impossible! We're outside of it's hazard zone!"

" _This is the_ Acoustina _! We have lost all power! Repeat, we have lost power!_ "

" _Getting pulled in! Emergency power isn't working!_ "

" _Mantle's Approach!_ Pick up! Now!"

" _They've arrived!_ "

Support vessels shaped like flat wedges slid in from the distance. Each unfolded into shards to take in the Warrior-Servants that fell from the station. Thousands were wrapped in the hard light skin of the recovery craft and were plucked away.

The Didact's feet locked to the floor of his vessel as the craft began high G maneuvers that outperformed the small craft's ability to compensate. "All Prometheans are to report to the _Mantle's Approach_! We leave now!"

"We're retreating?!" Endurance-of-Will asked.

"Do you not see what became of our fleet?" He consulted the ancilla. "We've lost seventy percent of all our fleet vessels. Seventy percent! I am not throwing away more Promethean lives! It… was a mistake to come here."

It was something that Endurance did not have a chance to hear very often. The Didact, the supreme commander of the Ecumene military, just admitted that he was wrong. This admission though did not make her feel smug. It horrified her.

The recovery craft streaked back towards the surviving Forerunner ships. Hundreds of craft dipped and dodged around debris caused by the battle. Death outlined against the accretion disk. It was a horrible place to die, and the Didact did not want to be one of the bodies out in the void.

'A gift for you, general of generals. Do not trespass upon my home again.'

" _That thing's opening up!_ ' a Forerunner ship cried out. ' _The station is moving!_ '

" _By the Mantle! It's sucking up the accretion disk!_ "

The arms of the skeletal station extended. Stellar material from the disk was snatched away from its orbit and was dragged up towards the construct. The energy gathered in the middle of the extended arms' reach. It gathered into a large ball that soon dwarfed the station itself. It grew larger and larger, increasing in brightness and in instability. It grew to thousands of kilometers wide in mere seconds.

"That's not possible." the Didact breathed, more to himself than the elite Prometheans around him.

" _Get those Slipspace drives powered up! Get us out of here!_ "

" _I cannot! The Huragok have locked me out of the system!_ "

"No!" The Didact screamed.

The sphere of energy, now more than ten thousand kilometers wide, far larger than the station that held it, collapsed in a near instant. The stellar material compressed to a point, then the station fired it. It was so subtle that it was not even noticeable at first. It wasn't until a new sphere of absolute darkness appeared in the sky that the Forerunners realized there was no retreat. A new multi-stellar mass black hole appeared at the center of the Forerunner fleet. Before the fleet could even realize what was happening, one hundred and forty were pulled past the event horizon and were torn apart by the tidal forces. Several more were already past saving and could only fire their engines in vain trying to get away from their inevitable doom.

" _Mantle's Approach!_ Pick us up now!"

" _We are at a safe distance, Didact. We are at your position now!_ "

The massive starship dropped out of the black right next to the rescue craft. It dropped down over them and swallowed the small ships in its massive landing bays. It was more accurate to say the ship fell on the Didact. The jolt was sudden, but the Prometheans survived the deceleration. "Jump to Slipspace now! Damn the reconciliation! Just point us anywhere except for here!"

" _What about the Second Fleet_?" the helmsman asked. " _The ones stationed at the orbiting star?_ "

"Send a quick message, and then we depart! Quickly! We have no time!"

In the time it took for that pointless exchange, more Forerunner ships were pulled apart by the artificial black hole. Their commanders frantically tried to regain control before the ships were pulled down by the massive gravitational dip. The ships spiraled around in a decaying orbit before they hit the point of no return. To the outside observer, the massive Forerunner craft appeared to slowly sink towards the darkness, and then simply stopped. Their image moved no more. The crew though died a painful death as their atoms were ripped apart.

The _Mantle's Approach_ could do nothing. Between the station weaponizing supernovas, neutron stars, and generating black holes with masses of several stars, they were way out of their league. What concerned the Didact as the _Mantle's Approach_ tunneled into the Slipsptream was that they had no idea any of this was waiting for them. The damned pyramid on that forgotten planet hadn't given them any indication as to the station's defenses. They went into it blind and he had paid dearly for it. Tens of millions dead. Warriors and Huragok wasted. An assault that barely lasted four hours came to a crushing halt. The damn thing laughed in their faces and flicked them away as if they were bugs.

As if the parasite they recently discovered was no longer enough. First the Flood, and now this.

Endurance-of-Will saw this. She chose not to act on it. She did however place a hand on her old lover's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I should be saying that." Shadow-of-a-Sundered-Star said. "That was an absolute catastrophe. We have taken far too many losses in the war against the Humans. I dishonor the memories of the dead by doing… this. Please. Don't speak to me right now."

She removed her hand and looked over her weapons. The Open Hand and Closed Fist were stained with alien blood. Her entire combat skin was drenched. This should have been the stain of victory – a battle hard fought. Instead it was a horrible defeat that did more than simply kill Forerunners and destroy ships: they had shown that damn thing their weakness. They had stared into the eyes of a god and blinked. She could read the Didact's mind. There would be no going back to that thing. Not now. They had far too much to worry about now. The war with the Humans still being wrought. The discovery of the Prisoner had been… badly timed. It would seem that there would be little chance to kill this being.

Now one million ships short, this would force the Forerunners to concede many battles to those primates. He would never speak of what happened here. Only the Strategem of the Ecumene would hear his report. Those few, and of course the Master Builder. It was only one more thing to add on the list for the proposals for the Shield Worlds.

So many dead. The number felt staggering. His ancilla told him the final body count. Four hours and that much death.

The worst part hit him not then, but seven jumps later as he made his way back to the council chambers that the Prisoner did something. It used him and his Forerunners to change something in the bowels of its cage. It spoke to him as if freedom was guaranteed. It simply needed to work up the desire to actually step out. The Didact's mouth went dry as he was admitted to the council. The Forerunners would not be able to stop the Prisoner. He hoped to the Mantle that the Master Builder's own pet project could do what forty three million Warrior Servants could not.

Even then, he sincerely doubted that even the murderous devices Faber has conceived of would not even work.

The Prisoner would simply laugh.


	3. Chapter 2: Childhood's End

Chapter 2: Childhood's End

December 15, 3241 2509 hours (1215 UST)

Invos City, Tribute

Epsilon Eridani system

Over one hundred thousand years later...

Sally Acorn walked the streets of Invos City nearly alone. This late at night, there were few people in the street, all of them choosing to keep to themselves. She glanced up into the sky, letting a few raindrops strike her face as the storm that had drenched the city several hours earlier decided to move on. In the sky, she could barely make out a few stars, but she could clearly see the two moons of the planet. The largest, Dakom, was big, almost considered to be part of a binary system, but still small enough that it was slave to Tribute's gravity. The second one, Palolim, was a rock about eighteen hundred kilometers in diameter. The latter was practically right in front of the former. It was a strange thing to see them placed almost perfectly together. Epsilon Eridani on the opposite side of the planet, so both moons were full.

Sally passed a bar that celebrated such an event. She has been here only a few weeks, but she was able to pick up some of their culture. Some of what Antoine told her before she came here helped. The people thought that any day where both the moons were full was one of partying. The bars in particular were evident of this. One sign she saw had scrawled in chalk, 'Two Full Moons, Two For the Price of One – Any Drink!'

She had to suppress a smile as she saw such businesses booming even at the late hour. She enjoyed seeing these people. The Humans and the way they lived. It wasn't all that much different than her homeworld, but there was always something different. The way they moved, the way they talked, and the way they looked at her with curiosity from time to time.

Sally could pass for a Human at a distance, but as soon as they glanced at her face, the illusion was broken. She could so easily be seen as one of them, but not at the same time. She had thought about this occasionally over the last few years. She had loved a Human once. Now he was gone forever. She was also two years a mother, but very rarely could see her child. Another woman raised him to spare her the 'shame' of bringing up a half-breed. Her little boy was two years old by now.

Sally crossed onto Formico Street. There were few people here as well. Her ears perked to see a Mobian sitting on a bench glancing out at the street. He was a middle aged canine with glasses on his nose. A cigarette dangled from his mouth as he looked down at his phone. Her people were far more spread now than ever before, both in Earth's universe and her home.

She didn't often think of these mechanics as crossing from one to the other was remarkably easy enough to take for granted. It had been about eight years since the UNSC first made contact with the Kingdom by accident.

But it wasn't the Mobian she needed to see. It was someone else. She glanced around looking for a bus stop which she believed was on this street in particular. It wasn't long until she found it less than half a block away. Three people were standing at it, two Humans, and one of the alien races of this universe, a Gallvente. The lanky alien with two sets of eyes and arms looked up and down the road waiting for transport. She ignored him and went to stand next to one of the Humans who wore a long coat and a flat cap. He needed a shave too. He stood a head and a half above Sally, who herself was five foot two.

"Excuse me?" she asked politely.

The man looked at her as soon as she spoke. His eyes were lined and seemed sunken behind his glasses. A soul patch was the only indication of order in the sea of chaos that was his facial hair. "Yeah? What do you want?"

Sally cleared her throat. She had a very specific question for him. "Are you waiting for the bus?"

The man shifted his eyes around. "Uh... yeah. Yeah I am waiting for the bus." He said this as if she had asked an obvious question. The man was obviously tired and didn't want to be bothered for long.

"It wouldn't happen to be the 21 bus?"

The man's demeanor relaxed at once. "Uh, no. This is the 18 line."

"Oh, my mistake." Sally apologized quickly. "Do you have a map I can borrow?"

The other Human, an older lady, rolled her eyes at the exchange. The Gallvente kept looking up and down the road.

"No, but you're welcome to wait." the man said, the anger disappearing quickly.

"Thank you." Sally said. She remained standing next to him and patiently stood, glancing only once to her watch. It was set for Earth time, not the 27 hour day that Tribute experienced.

"You're early." the man said out of the corner of his mouth, "I expected you to be here a half hour from now."

"I got lucky with the landing time." she responded in a whisper. "What's the situation here?"

"Playing with fire." the man responded. "ONI's convinced that one of these wackos is set up in this city. If we move fast enough we can whisk him away before they get any funny ideas."

"Any backup?"

"Local police forces are aware of the mission and will back us up once we give them the signal. A simple signal that a few lookouts are keeping an eye open for."

"Is the bus coming at all?" the older woman asked.

"Should be around the corner, ma'am." the man responded.

"It's cold tonight."

"That it is, ma'am." he nodded, not looking at her.

"Do we know much about the target?"

"Mobian." the man responded. "Male, age 37 years. The name's Morton. We're fairly certain he's an otter."

"How certain?"

"85 percent. Here's the bus."

A pair of lights rounded the corner of the street and pulled onto the block. The bus slowly rolled up to the stop. It, like the rest of the city at this hour, had barely anybody on it. Maybe ten passengers at the most. It hissed to a stop and opened its doors.

" _This is the green line. Bound for Petey Station, Roscoe Street, Claraben Boulevard, and Rockswell Place! Fee is two credits!_ "

Sally fished into her pockets and drew out a set of coins used by the Humans. They were small and compact, each with a simple number engraved into it. She pulled a two credit coin out. A grim looking man faced one side, and a constellation on the other. She slid it into the slot of the vehicle and went aboard. The man did the same, as did the other passengers at the stop. Sally took a set halfway back of the bus. The man she had been speaking to sat two rows ahead of her and on the opposite side of the aisle.

She knew he wasn't just a man though. Agent Jake Brascow was the man she had been expecting to see out here. Brascow was an Office of Naval Intelligence officer that had been investigating whispers of what had been called The Dark Legion. She insisted on going. As it turned out, she had been extremely bored with going back to a regular life. Things just hadn't been the same since Frederic had been born. It was almost as if they wanted to get rid of her forever. She refused to sit and just leave things the way they were out there. She was aware she was putting herself into danger, but she had been doing that ever since she was a child.

Brascow was there not only to serve as a contact, but to protect her as well. ONI was well aware of how the Princess was doing nowadays. The pair remained seated until they came to the third stop on the line – Claraben Boulevard. This was one of the largest roads in the city, and the part they were in was farther away from the core. Here, things began to look a little run down. Brascow pulled on the stop line. The bus coasted to the side of the road and opened its doors. Brascow and Sally left together and walked North along the road. Traffic was somewhat heavier here. Cars occasionally came up and down the road.

"Are you armed?" Brascow asked.

"Yes." Sally said. She had her revolver on her.

"Good. This has the potential to get ugly."

"I thought we were just talking to somebody."

"We are. We may also need to persuade them."

"Typical ONI – explaining things at the last minute."

"Not now, Acorn." Brascow growled. "If we don't have a show of force, they may gun us down. Here we are." they turned down an alley. It was dimly lit, with one flickering light near the opposite end. A van was parked on the right. A hobo stood by a dumpster fire on the left.

"Say, say you guys got a credit or two?" he grinned, showing off shockingly white teeth.

"Jeebs. It's Brascow."

The hobo's smile disappeared. "You could have said something."

"Sorry. We're running a bit early. Ready to go?"

"Yeah, just let me get my stuff together." the hobo reached under the bumper of the van and pulled out a shotgun. He also pulled a set of shells from the wheel well and inserted them into the receiver. He racked the slide and moved forward.

"Even the hobos work for ONI?" Sally asked, both amused and shocked.

"Hide in plain sight, ma'am." Jeebs chuckled. "They're in here." He pointed to a padlocked door. The hobo bashed the lock with the butt of his shotgun. The chain snapped after a few strikes. The trio silently slid inside. Sally reached into her jacket and pulled the .357 revolver out of its holster. She thumbed the safety on the revolver and held it steady. Ahead, the passageway went down a few flights of stairs. She scanned the hallway as she descended. Brascow pulled out his own weapon, a heavy pistol wth a protruding and curved magazine. It was a scary looking thing with a red dot sight clipped on the top and even an extendable stock. It was more of a carbine than a handgun.

The stairway continued for many more flights until they reached the bottom. Jeebs seemed rather unusual with tattered clothing, a military grade pumpgun, and movements that clearly showed he was more than he appeared to be – namely an ONI commando who seemingly watched the streets of Invos city under the guise of a bum.

At the base of the stairs there was another door. Sally guessed that it was locked but did not touch the handle. There was no need to alert whoever was inside. Brascow however held up his wrist. A small computer was strapped to his arm that he held up to the door. Something flashed across his eyes and he said, "One target inside."

"He's alone?" Sally asked.

"Unless he has backup in thermal protection." Brascow said. "He has no idea we're out here. The door's clean too. Going to breach it with a popper though."

A popper was a small explosive device used by breach teams to blow out a lock and handle to allow a breach and clear maneuver. It didn't have the same explosive force as a breaching charge, but it could be directed towards the lock. Once that was out of the way, they could get inside and question their target.

Brascow pulled out the putty like explosive. He placed it around the lock and handle and gingerly folded it into place. He then placed a micro transceiver in the substance, and pressed a button on his arm-mounted. The electrical signal was sent to the bomb which generated a charge. This charge was enough to tear atoms apart, forcing the popper to explode. In terms of a bomb, it was pretty quiet; barely 120 decibels. The force though was enough to blow the lock to smithereens and shoot the handle on the opposite side into the room. Brascow kicked the door in and entered the room. Sally followed, and lastly Jeebs with the shotgun. They all stopped.

A Mobian stared back at them, completely dumbstruck. He was sitting at a desk fiddling with metal components on a table. He wore a sweatshirt, and simple trousers. Slippers covered his feet. In the background, they could hear Franz Schubert's 'Ave Maria' playing. It was only then that Sally recognized the otter was cleaning several assault rifles.

"What..." the Mobian said.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding." Jeebs said in exasperation. "Really?"

The Mobian raised what looked like a drill. It could have been a gun. Sally shot wide on purpose. Her .357 barking as a round spiraled past the man's ear. The Mobian dropped the gun, hand shaking. Jeebs came forward in a run around the table and grabbed the man's hand before he could do anything else.

"Step away from the rifles!"

"Hey, what the hell are you doing man?! Who are you?"

"Shut up!" Jeebs said. "I said get the fuck away from the guns!"

"I've got permits man! Those are legal rifles!" the Mobian was forced into the chair, was kicked away from the table, and immdietely put under armed guard.

"Brascow, check the rooms."

"You better have a fucking warrant, you son of a bitch!" the Mobian said. Jeebs wound up and knocked the man in the head with the stock.

"We're ONI. Warrants are just a hassle. Hell, we aren't even here. You're just having a bad dream."

"Fascist Human son of a bitch!"

"That's a little funny coming from a terrorist! How's Julian nowadays?"

"I want a lawyer!"

Brascow pulled Sally aside. "I found something."

Sally kept the gun out but followed Brascow. The third verse of Schubert's song was beginning as they came to what was a bedroom. A simple bed stood in the corner. With ragged sheets, clothes and beer bottles were tossed about, and above the bed was a simple flag. It was red and black. On it was the stylized face of a man she would never forget. The face of the man who single handedly cast her family down and destroyed all they created. She pulled the flag off the wall and returned to the place where Jeebs held the Mobian at the end of a barrel.

"What's this?" Sally asked holding out the flag.

The otter realized he was caught but said nothing. He stared at the floor in shame.

"You traitorous little cockroach." Sally said casting the flag to the floor. "Robotnik vowed to destroy all who served the Kingdom and you join him?"

"I'm not with the Kingdom!" the man claimed. I'm not even from your country, Princess."

So he recognized her. "You should have known what he was capable of."

"We do now. There are millions of us, you know. Mobians that want a chance to take power. It was always the Kingdom of Acorn. Never countries like Pegagio, Subat, Kwayla, or any of the others that wanted to benefit from the Acorns and their Human attack dogs."

"Where is Robotnik?"

"Free." he smiled. "Free to build his forces."

"I want to know where." Sally said.

"No." the man replied.

"Shoot him." Brascow said.

Sally made no argument against it. She pulled the trigger on her gun and sent a bullet smashing through his left shoulder. The Mobian screamed in pain, clutching at the bloody divot next to his right clavicle. He clawed at the wound and floundered about.

"You're already an enemy of the state pal." Brascow said. "Nobody cares if you never leave this basement tonight. We've got legal authority to wipe you off the map. Better start talking fast about the Dark Legion and what they do."

"I'm not telling you anything!" The otter screamed, tears in his eyes and blood pouring from the wound. "I'm dying first!"

"I can make that happen." Brascow said.

Sally pulled the hammer back on her revolver and squared it at the otter's other shoulder. "Where's Robotnik? Tell me or you lose the other arm."

He remained silent, but a quick sob escaped his teeth. Sally pulled the trigger. This time, when the bullet hit the shoulder, it wasn't blood and bone that splattered, but hydraulic fluid and shards of metal. The right arm was artificial, and a very good quality replacement. The place where the 'fur' had blown away revealed coiling faux musculature of expanding and contracting tubes that pulled the 'bones' of the arm around.

The man screamed regardless. It was likely hooked to his nervous system.

"I take it back." Sally growled. "Maybe your pal can whip you up another one. Maybe you should tell us where he is so he can air mail it to me. I go for the legs next." She cracked open the carousel of the gun. The two empties auto-extracted from their housings. The empty shells clinked on the cement floor. "I can do this all night, man." she said as she pulled two more magnum cartridges from a pocket and slid them into the chambers. There was a small click as the auto extraction springs held them in place until they were fired.

"Save us the time." Brascow said. "Tell us where he is."

The otter looked at his ruined arms. He would lose the left one for sure if he didn't get medical attention. He cared nothing for the right. The legs on the other hand he looked at longingly. "I don't want to lose my arm."

"Tell us and we'll get you to a hospital."

The otter breathed quickly. Sally could imagine the mental war in his head.

"Alright! Alright, OK! OK, OK! Robotnik's looking for something."

"Not a good answer." Sally raised the gun.

"Wait! Wait wait! He's looking for a person. I think!" He tried to raise his arms, but the splintered bones made him shriek in pain. "Augh! Some kind of person!"

"Are you important enough to know who that is?"

"A Prisoner or something!"

"What?" Sally said blankly. The arm dropped and the gun with it.

"A Prisoner!" he screamed. "That's all I know! That's all any of us know! The Dark Legion was formed to find this prisoner!"

Nobody spoke. Schubert's song looped for some reason. Surely the otter hadn't been listening to 'Ave Maria' on repeat.

"That has to be a lie." Brascow said. "Robotnik knows about the Prisoner?"

"I'm telling you the truth." the otter said. "As much as I know. As much as any of us know..." He started to sway.

"Dammit no!" Brascow cursed. "He's slipping into shock." He pulled open a pocket which held a medical kit. He pulled a length of dressing and tied a tourniquet around the organic arm.

"I think I need a doctor." the otter said.

"Get him out of here." Brascow said looking to Jeebs and Sally. They both grabbed the man's arms, but then something clicked in the otter's head and it snapped back at once. A sick popping noise was heard and the head snapped to one side at an odd angle. A muffled groan came from the man's lips and his eyes glazed over.

"The hell?!" Jeebs shouted. "Did... did he just die?"

" _Oh yes. Security feature, you understand_."

The voice was so condescending and smug that it couldn't be mistaken for anybody else.

"Bastard!" Sally said. Julian Kintobor's voice echoed in the room. "Show yourself!"

" _Not a chance. Don't bother tracing the call, gentlemen. It's bouncing off half the satellite dishes in Invos City. I may be on Tribute, or I could be several systems over using Slipspace communications._ "

Sally and Jeebs dropped the corpse of the Legion soldier unceremoniously. He slumped on the ground with a leg twitching.

"You're looking for the Prisoner." Sally said. "Why?"

" _I'm not going to tell you._ "

"You're willing to form an army to get it." Sally said.

" _I know where it is, and I have an advantage that you don't have._ "

"You're lying." Brascow said. "ONI doesn't know anything more than its location. What makes you think that you can get it before we can?"

" _A dead man's secrets_."

Sally's jaw slackened and her eyes went wide. She said nothing.

" _Oh, and before I forget – this is standard with Legionaries. I'm sure I'll see you all again one day_."

The eyes of the dead man began to glow. Brightly. Light seemed to pour from them.

"I'm thinking we exfil." Jeebs suggested.

"Don't have to tell me twice!" Sally said. "Dead man's switch! Run!"

The trio bolted for the door and didn't look back. Sally ran so quickly she pulled several muscles in her legs. She fought through the pain though and managed to make it out the door they came. Jeebs and Brascow sprinted ahead of her. She threw herself up the alley and covered her head. The explosion that came from the lower room traveled up the stairwell and shot straight out the doorway, throwing clear several bricks and blowing part of the door off its hinges. Power went out all along the building and car alarms were set off for a block. Windows blew out for up to three stories above the ground, and the hallway within was instantly set on fire.

Instantly, police sirens went off, lights from residents snapped on, and dogs barked in the distance.

Sally could hear absolutely none of this. She still had her head covered with her hands that stung as small bits of metal and concrete hit them and scratched them up. Her chin bled as it scraped on the asphalt below her, and part of her jacket sucked water from a pothole. Her eyes were squeezed closed and her hearing was nothing but one long ring. When she opened her eyes, she could barely make out what was in front of her. She saw police cars turn into the alley and pull close to her. Their lights were blindingly bright. Several of the doors opened up and Humans poured out. Several had their handguns cleared as soon as they leaned out from the seats. Their faces were obscured from the shadows their caps cast. The leader was a tall woman who had her hair in a close bun. She shouted something, but Sally didn't hear it. She did raise her hands in front of her softly.

Two officers rolled her over and pulled her revolver away. She saw Brascow stand in front of her and talk to the officer. She began to get some of her hearing back and she heard the din.

"...Naval Intelligence! Do you understand what I'm saying? My investigation is sanctioned by the UEG!"

"I don't take kindly to you setting off bombs in my city!" the cop said.

"That is not our fault! Our guy was wired with explosives or something!"

"Wired? You mean like a cyborg or something?"

"Yes!" Brascow said.

"You two boys! Inside!" The cop said. Two officers in padded gear made their way inside the building. The fire department had arrived by then and began sending firefighters inside to put the blaze down.

Sally spat some blood out. "He didn't have to tell us he had a bomb."

"I know." Brascow said.

"He wanted us to survive. He wants us to go looking for him."

"Why?" Jeebs asked.

"He enjoys the game." Sally answered. "He always has. It's always been a game to him since the beginning." She looked at the cop who grabbed her gun. "May I have that back please?"

"Give it to her." the head cop responded.

Sally took the .357 and shoved it back in her holster. "Robotnik's using cybernetically enhanced Mobians as well as Humans to look for the Prisoner. He may not even be in-system. I've got to get back to Earth." she said this to Brascow and looked then to the cop. "I've got an UNSC dropship in Casbah. I need to get there."

"I can give you a ride." Brascow said. "I need to file a report in Sydney on this anyway. Jeebs, you coming?"

"Nah, I'm going to coordinate with the locals on this one. You go send your report to the Admirals."

Brascow and Sally walked away from the cops. "You alright?"

"That could have gone better."

"We're alive." he said.

"Yeah, I know."

"It'll take three hours to get to Casbah. I'm sure the police won't mind if we break a few speed limits."

"That'll be fine." Sally said. "Get me a coffee while we're at it. I feel faint."

Brascow's car was hidden some distance away. Sally was indeed faint and even tired. It came from surviving an explosion like that. She sat covered in soot and dirty from the wet ground in the passenger seat of Brascow's Mainz-Trager coupe and as she drifted into sudden sleep, she wondered just what they did to her Human. What did they do to him? How did they pull from his memories after his death? Just what advantage did Robotnik have?

It was too much for her. She saw the twin moons from the window, and that beautiful view faded from sight as she slipped into unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 3: Identify and Execute

Chapter 3: Identify and Execute

December 19, 3241, 1040 hours

Office of Naval Intelligence

Seattle, Washington, Earth

"Is this information accurate?" Rear Admiral Hank Dougherty asked. He took a quick drink of water from a crystal glass on his desk and looked over the typed report in his hand. He scanned the document and flicked the page over. The document had detailed the encounter with the Dark Legion agent in Epsilon Eridani. "We have explosive-laced cyborgs walking about in the Inner Colonies?"

"Afraid so." Vice Admiral Gerome Andsworth said. "That little mission in Invos shed some light on something I think we'd all prefer stay hidden."

"Walking bombs, Gerome?!"Dougherty asked, shaking the page. "I thought Kintobor wasn't capable of something like this!"

"The report said he's not working alone anymore."

"Yes. Yes I saw this. I don't know who this is though."

"Neither does ONI. Finitevus. Described as being a Mobian, but he's been keeping his tracks hidden for a long time. We're trying to contact the Royals to see if the Secret Service can shed any light on his background, but it looks like this Finitevus character's been something of a boogieman to the Legion."

"So that bomb going off on Halla was one of their doing." Dougherty said. "The one in Prescot's Point."

"Yes. The one that left two hundred dead."

"That was out in the Outer Colonies though." Dougherty replied. He wiped his eyes with his hand. Dougherty had been promoted out of the NCIS division of Naval Intelligence here in Seattle. Andsworth knew Hank for seventeen years in the military. He was a desk man through and through, but it was clear that his recent promotion put him into a position he didn't seem comfortable with yet. All of ONI had a serious brooming in the past two years following the deposing of Troy Marshall. Corruption was weeded out and cast into the trash. Hank was one of the good ones, and there weren't many.

"We think so. However, the reports say that bomber was a Human. This means that Julian and this Finitevus character are attracting all kinds. It probably won't be long before he gets some of the other races involved."

"He'll have his own little Covenant." Hank laughed, and then coughed. He took another drink and stood up. Dougherty's office was located on the higher floors of the Naval Intelligence building in downtown Seattle. The giant curving window overlooked the city center. Cars streaked past on skyways and on raised roads. The morning sun blazed in a sky of icy blue. However, the city had not received any snowfall yet. The air was frigid outside of the building. Steam from exhaust vents caused columns of white to drift into the blue.

Dougherty looked at the Space Needle, an ancient building that was meticulously preserved. There were many buildings like it in the United States and the rest of the United Federation of North America. All of them offered a window into the past when all of Humanity had just this planet to call home. Dougherty looked out to the window and saw Vancouver in the distance. Seattle and Vancouver were so close together after centuries of growth that they were considered one big city. Dougherty thought of the people who lived in these cities. Americans and Canadians. Humans and aliens. People over the last ten or so years have been through a lot. Now explosive terrorists that were indistinguishable from the general populace.

"We have to stop them."

"I agree, and so does the Admiralty. We're considering upping surveillance in major cities. In some of the Outer Colonies, we're considering martial law."

"Won't fly."

"Admiralty doesn't care. Julian Kintobor is now a target that needs removal. Him and his legion. Remember Hank, there are still many people out there that don't like us. Besides, Julian wants the Prisoner. These bombings are just a diversion from the real mission."

"I was just briefed a week ago. As if it was scary enough already. This... this thing – it scares me shitless."

"It's kind of why I came today, Hank. You are now Deputy Chief of Naval Operations. I need you to sign off on a mission."

"Why?"

"Given the severity of the costs, all high ranking flag officers in the core are to be made aware of the mission. You're number two on the list."

"Have you seen everyone?"

"No, I've still got to be in New York by noon. There are still more that need to sign. Not to mention the President afterwards."

"You're serious?" Dougherty asked smirking. "You're talking to us before the President? What if he says no?"

"We've got the signatures. We'll just say 'fine, we'll take your official answer' and then proceed with the mission anyway."

"Wow."

"Not like we have much of a choice, Hank." Andsworth took his cap off and rubbed his scalp. "We've got something approaching a god in that void and I for one don't want it to get out. Just based on the fraction of information we were able to pull about it, I can say with one hundred percent of certainty that this planet won't last long when that Prisoner walks free." He replaced the cap and simply stood to wait. Hank couldn't say no.

"You're certain of this?"

"More than I've ever been in my life."

Dougherty looked out the window at Seattle again. It was his home. He had been born in this city. He didn't want to even think about what such a creature could do to it. Just what had it done so badly to be sentenced to the place where it was?

"Every second we waste here gives Julian another inch! Hank, if we give him an inch, we give him a parsec! We've already fought this guy before! He knows something we don't!"

Dougherty sighed explosively and his shoulders dropped. "You're going to need a physical signature. Protocols don't allow for the usual electronic stuff."

"Brought the papers." Gerome beckoned to a briefcase. He had brought it with him when he entered. He cracked it open and picked up a neat set of loose-leaf. It was a formal request for clearance of the mission. He handed the small stack to Dougherty. "It's short and sweet."

The papers essentially requested permission to send a military force through to an unexplored EUS, an Extra-Universal Space. In plainspeak, an alternate universe. An EUS was exactly like the one where Mobius was – physical spaces that were either mirrors of the world, or something entirely different. This paper requested immediate deployment to EUS-1840, the 1840th Extra-Universal Space detected by the UEG. The issue was that it had not been explored. So there was no telling what was on the other side. Hank signed the document without further question.

"There." he said. "I hereby green-light your suicide mission."

It was intended to be a joke, but both Andsworth and Dougherty knew that there was very real risk. Once the ships were across that jumpgate, there was no guarantee that they would be coming back at all.

"Thank you, Hank." Andsworth said. He picked up the papers and placed them back in his briefcase.

"Thank me by stopping Julian."

Andsworth smiled behind his mustache. "Before I go, how are your kids?"

"Oh?" his face split into a smile. "Terrific! I... haven't seen them face to face in months. Thanks for asking. I... needed that. I guess."

"Ask for leave."

"I thought you had to be on a plane."

"I do." he checked his watch. "Soon actually. Thanks again, Hank."

"Yeah." Dougherty's phone rang. "I have to take this."

"Of course. I'll be off." Andsworth said. He straightened his tie, turned on his heel, and left the office. A few more people and he would be sending his people into what could be the worst mission of their lives.

Dougherty saw the man leave and the door close behind him. Hank sighed and placed the handset to his ear. "Go ahead." He heard the response on the other end of the line. His eyes grew heavy. "Not another one. Where?"

Mars. Olympus City. The Aeolis Mall.

The Legion again.

"How many are dead?"


	5. Chapter 4: Crossover

Chapter 4: Crossover

December 21, 3241, 1400 hours

The Jumpgate, Lunar Orbit

Luna, Sol

To Sergeant Major Avery Johnson, the moon was just a rock. True it was a rock that served as Mankind's springboard into the universe and it housed one of the second largest population centers in the Sol system. It was still just a rock to him. The world had changed for the man who called himself Avery Johnson – the name of a dead man. A stolen name he made use for himself. He himself knew all about being a last resort, a backup. Clones weren't used for much else.

It was perhaps because of his nature that he best understood the mission that he and his team would embark on. OMEGA – what was once an experimental team to link together the peoples of two worlds… two universes. Now, the people of Mobius and the UNSC fought on the same side. He was proud to have been part of it, though he had only been in the picture for the last six years. Today though, he was about to undertake another mission and it was one he was not guaranteed to return from. That was alright though. Every mission was one he potentially would never return from. This one he had been assured would be different.

Johnson was technically the leader of OMEGA. It was technically his position since the real leader of the team was out on a mission to somehow find and recruit a Forerunner. Johnson had memories in his head that were not his. John-117 and he apparently had been good friends that had fought against the Covenant for many months over the course of the war… but that was over six hundred years ago. He felt it was a stroke of luck that they had somehow been united here. Both were men out of time, but both had a renewed sense of purpose. It was all Avery could have asked for.

Johnson stood alone on the observation deck of the station where they would be transferred over to the ship that was to be used on this particular assignment – the _Ontario_. It was a fine ship. He had read over the crew and the history of the vessel. It had ferried one of his people before and was apparently hell of a fighter. The captain of that ship, an eccentric yet dutiful man named Gregers Ekdal had volunteered for the assignment. He had to take of his hat there. Two additional support vessels, the _Colorado_ and the _Bastogne_ would accompany the _Ontario_. All three were frigates of the same class. Supposedly, this would allow for exchange of supplies should they be needed. What Avery was concerned about was the potential duration of the assignment. The brass had been awfully tight lipped and seemed to gloss over that issue when the briefing came by. It didn't matter. The assignment was what mattered. The Covenant War had lasted almost thirty years. He had been there as the first shot was fired.

Well, at least the dead man his memories came from had been.

Johnson lit up a Sweet Williams and relished in the fact that there were no damned regulations on smoking here. Those annoying confiscating systems back in the day that literally sucked potentially flammable substances away – including cigars – was enough to make him want to tear his hair out. He hadn't seen much of them lately. Perhaps they were phased out. With cigar clamped in the corner of his mouth, he left the observation deck down a flight of stairs to see his team. It was almost time for the cross-decking.

Johnson found them sitting near the docking arm in a sort of armory. A station the size of the Kasparov Orbital wasn't a sizable military installation. Indeed it was only a waystation this close to the Jumpgate. The massive and ancient construct was only a scant thousand kilometers away. Assembled in front of him were the group that volunteered for the mission.

Miles Prower a young man who had taken the assignment with interest and a sense of responsibility. An insanely intelligent Lieutenant in the Navy who had shot through the ranks because of his intellect and use to the UNSC, Prower had been with him right from when his icy tomb was cracked open on Thoris six years ago. Usually the twenty-two year old fox would be chained at the hip to his friend and mentor Sonic the Hedgehog, but he had grown to be a man in his own right. Besides, Sonic would not have been able to be present. He had recently become a father of a little girl named Sonia.

Beside Miles was Johnson's right hand man. Weapons specialist and multi-billionaire entrepreneur Ryan L. Percy. A man who had made his fortune but decided living on the edge was more than a fair enough price to pay. What was life without adrenaline after all? He had put together a company that crafted custom made weaponry for the private and public, and here he was ready to leap face first into hell for the UNSC. That he could do with the massive guns he had at his disposal as well as a damned magical bag that seemed to have been constructed with a slipspace portal wedged into it. How he acquired it, he wouldn't say, but it certainly helped them out on more than one occasion. He was strong, brimming with muscles as well as confidence. He didn't want it any other way.

The last man was someone he had not known for long. Reyes was his name. A tall man that was equally as muscled, though he had a head and a half on Ryan. The man's dark skin stood out against the sterile walls of the station. His T-shirt could barely contain his mass that rippled whenever he moved. Johnson didn't know much about Reyes but that he had been of considerable help when Marshall had been in power. That made him OK in Avery's book. The more help they could get the better.

The three were discussing something that Avery could not hear. He did pass nice and close to them. When they saw he was coming, they stood to when he approached.

"Sarge." Miles said nodding. "What's the word?"

"We board in ten minutes." He chewed the cigar over in his mouth. He gave a playful slap to Prower's chest. "How you feeling, son?"

"Uh, good." Tails bit his lip slightly and looked at the floor. The young man seemed somewhat flustered.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Sarge." Miles said, this time looking more confident. Avery had known Prower since he was a teenager. Six years ago that was. Time flies. Avery himself was well into his eighties. Technically. Miles actually outranked Johnson by several grades. It was mutual respect that he referred to Avery as such.

"Percy."

"Sarge." Ryan had a freshly shaved head but a beard that crawled around his chin. A pair of dark sunglasses covered his eyes and a heavy flak jacked covered his chest. He had an unloaded rifle in his hand and his trademark backpack on.

"Ready to kick tail?"

"Hell, I'd be disappointed if we didn't." He cycled the bolt on his rifle and checked the internals. "Suicide mission they call it. I like a challenge." Reyes smiled in response.

"What about you, big guy?"

"Not bad." Reyes said evenly.

"Excuse me?" Johnson took the cigar out of his mouth and walked a little closer. "We're on a mission to save the universe, it's all on the line, there's no guarantee we're coming back, and you're 'not bad'?"

"Yeah." Reyes said. "Well, I mean I'm ready, Sergeant."

"Alright then." Johnson reinserted the cigar. "I just need you on point, Reyes. I don't know you. I don't know what you can do."

"I can promise you that you won't regret bringing me on. I did the best I could against Marshall. I'll give it my all here. Nothing matters except stopping the Prisoner."

Johnson slapped the man on the shoulder. "Good. Keep that attitude and we may just come home alive. Alright maggots! Listen up!" He walked in front of his men. "We are OMEGA. We are the tip of the spear and first response to universe ending catastrophes! We meet death head on in the face! We kick it in the groin and take its lunch money! Divine providence brought me back from beyond the grave to do what I do best – kicking ass and taking names! OMEGA is the pinnacle of the Corps! You _are_ the Corps! A model of unit cohesion! As per usual, if you die while on duty, I will force your spirit onto PT marches from now until the end of time! If there is anybody, and I mean, anybody who wants out, do it now. I mean, we've only had two years to work this out, but the offer still stands."

Nobody moved. Just as expected.

Then, the elevator opened and Jolee Bindo strode out.

Bindo. A man from another universe. Four years ago, he had joined the group to get away from the planet he had stayed on for twenty years. Though not native to this universe, he chose to stay and meditate. He had explained a power that he had tapped into called the Force. Though he could not use it here, he lived the life of a scholar and a true medium ever since.

The earth-colored robes that he wore before had been abandoned for clothing that still kept some of his original aesthetic. Custom-made clothing covered him. None could know that he was once a Jedi Knight. He seemed more like a regular man if it weren't for the scabbard on his back. It clashed with the tie wore.

"Oh hell no." Johnson said.

"I don't want to hear it, sonny."

"No way, old man! You're staying here!"

"I'm getting on that ship and there's nothing you can do to stop me." Bindo pointed down the docking arm. "I don't see why you don't want my help!"

"One, your odds of dropping dead from a hemorrhage increase by the second."

Bindo actually burst out laughing at that.

"Two, we need guns, not Jedi."

"And how do you know that?" Bindo asked, still chuckling from the joke. "How do you know that a Jedi who's seen more than you have in your whole life won't be useful to you? I've dealt with alien races that you'd never even conceive of. I've stopped civil wars! Come now, let an old man go on another adventure. I mean, it could be my last!"

"Really?" Johnson asked.

"Well, maybe! True, I'm too stubborn to kick it, but it could happen!"

"Don't you have your own home to go back to?"

"Oh, you know I can go back anytime I want. I'm telling you, I have time."

Miles piped up, "Sarge, just let him come. The more help the better."

Johnson sighed. "Fine. Sure, alright. You can come, but I don't think they stock adult diapers on the ship."

"Oho!" Bindo said. "Let's see who's gonna need them first, Sonny!"

The dockmaster walked out of the docking arm. He held a datapad in his hand. "Alright! Last call for boarding! This is for the UNSC _Ontario_! Going or staying, people?"

Johnson pointed to his men, including Jolee Bindo and told them to follow. They did without question. Johnson was the first to step through the airlock and across the bridge leading to the _Ontario._ There was only the barest lifting in gravity as the team passed from one field to another. All around them, Marines and Navy personnel followed them to the hold of the ship. Once they crossed the threshold, they were assault by noise. Vehicles were rolling around in the hold and multiple men were running from station to station. Waiting for them was the captain. Gregers Ekdal stood tall and satisfied. He beamed at his crew with a characteristic grin on his face. When Johnson approached, he loosened his stance. Unexpected for a naval officer.

"Captain. Sergeant Major Avery Johnson reporting for duty." he saluted the captain. The rest of OMEGA followed standing straight. The only one who didn't raise a hand was Jolee, who wasn't part of the military.

"Sergeant." Ekdal responded. His Norwegian accent was thick. The captain returned the salute. "Oh please, at ease."

Johnson and his team lowered their arms.

"I would like to welcome you to the _Ontario!_ She is a humble ship, but she is more than willing to strike it out into the unknown. Please, follow me and I will show you to your bunks."

"Uh, that's alright, sir." Johnson said. "I'm sure we can find them."

"No, please, I insist. I have had the opportunity to work with OMEGA before. I respect your group greatly. Ah, hello young man!" He noticed Miles. Ekdal recognized him instantly. "It's been some time!"

"It's a pleasure to work with you again, Captain."

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine! A Lieutenant now! I guess you've impressed someone! You were only a petty officer last we met!"

"Thank you, Captain."

"Like I said, please follow me, gentlemen!"

Ekdal led OMEGA away from the hold and through an elevator to the third deck. While they were walking down a hallway, Ekdal spoke. "Now, I am sure we all understand the severity of this mission. The UEG is clearly frightened by what the Prisoner represents."

"Yes sir." Miles said first. "Earth and Mobius are in danger."

"Oh, it's far worse than that, lad. You should know that."

"Well, yes it is." Tails responded. "I'd thought the UNSC would send... a few more ships though."

"The UNSC is very tight-lipped on that response." Ekdal responded. He removed his cap and rubbed his scalp. "The crew doesn't need to know everything that's about to happen. I'd rather we do this mission without unnecessary harm to their minds."

" _Attention, Attention: All hands brace for disengagement! Repeat undocking will commence now_!"

The ship thumped as the docking clamps disengaged. The _Ontario_ pulsed its thrusters to push it away from the station. Slow activation of the jets slowly caused the frigate to drift away from Kasparov station. The _Bastogne_ and the _Colorado_ followed suit, each disengaging and slowly rolling into formation. The _Bastogne_ rolled a full 180 degrees and translated under the station and then behind the _Ontario._ The Colorado wasn't far behind it. The three ships formed a staggered line separated by ten kilometers. Each was somewhat visible to one another.

" _Attention: Engines answering full. All crew prepare for transition_."

"I don't know what's going to be on the other side of that gate, boys."

"Intel says that it hasn't been explored?" Reyes asked.

"It's been tried. Drones have returned, but no useful information came from them. It's like the cameras were disabled. They were working just fine when technicians looked at it."

"There's no other universe we could look at?" Jolee asked. "I'm sure there's more than a few superweapons where I've come from.

"This is the strongest."

"Not even Koprulu?" Miles asked.

"Not even close, son." Ekdal said. "The Protoss don't even want us there right now. Disagreement with the Terrans. The Admiralty wants this universe specifically. If we can locate the source, then we can call the cavalry in."

"Sounds like fun." Jolee said. "Get my old heart pumping."

Ekdal turned around. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced. I am Captain Gregers Ekdal." he extended a hand. "Who would you be?"

"Jolee Bindo." the Jedi responded, catching the Captain's hand and shaking it. "Jedi Knight, Moral Compass, old man looking for adventure, and smuggler... retired."

Ekdal smiled, as he always did. "Well, Mister Bindo, never let it be said that I turned down help. Welcome aboard." Ekdal continued down the hallway. We've tried to get Spartans on this trip, but the UEG is budgeting them carefully. We have a grand total of two, both of them on the Colorado. They are only to be used in the worst of situations."

"Do you have their credentials?" Johnson asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Ekdal slipped a datapad out of his breast pocket and handed it to Avery. It already had crew rosters open. Two Spartans stood highlighted. Maurice and Paul. Both of them were rated for Heavy Weapons specialists. Both held the rank of Petty Officer First Class. "Satisfied?"

"Oh yes." Johnson said. "One Spartan would be more than enough. Two might as well be an army."

"I expected to see John-117 on that list." Ekdal said.

"No, he's on a different mission."

"To be expected. Well, here we are, gentlemen." Ekdal stopped in front of a barracks section of the ship. "I'm sure that this will work out nicely for you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Mister Prower, I can offer you officers' quarters if you would like."

"No thank you, sir." Tails said. "I'll be fine here."

"Very well." Ekdal nodded. "And you, Mister Bindo? You are a civilian. I can offer you better lodgings for you and your... sword."

"Anything's better than Kashyyyk. I'll be fine here though."

"As you wish. I advise you to lock your blade away."

"Oh, absolutely."

Ekdal looked at the crack team in front of him. "We're in for a hell of a ride. Please, make yourselves comfortable. I have to be on the bridge. We'll cross over in roughly three hours time."

"Thank you, sir." Johnson said.

"Also, I have to tell you, Sergeant Major..."

Avery plucked the cigar from his mouth. "Yeah, yeah, you don't have to tell me twice." He stubbed the burning and threw the cigar into a receptacle. "Recycled air and all that jazz."

"Dismissed gentlemen. But, Mister Prower, can I speak to you one more time?"

Tails nodded. "Sure. Yes, sir." He stood his ground as the rest of his team retreated through the barracks doors.

"How's Sally doing?"

"Sorry?"

"Listen, I worked with you before. She's a tough lady, but every time I've seen her after Tears of Piety, she seems to be troubled. Is she alright?"

"Yes. Of course. She's doing much better."

"Listen, I know what happened."

"You do...?"

"Yes, but that's neither here nor there. I just want to make sure she's fine."

"You have my word, Captain, she's happy now."

Ekdal smiled. "That makes me glad. She deserves it." He clapped Prower's arm. "Off you go, son. Get some rest."

"Thank you sir." Miles saluted and turned to leave through the door.

Ekdal saw the door slide shut. She proceeded to walk down the hall to the nearest lift. Despite putting on a confident face, Gregers Ekdal was as scared as any other man or woman on the ship. He steeled himself. There was still a job to be done. He intended to do it, and do it right.

* * *

Miles had only clocked in an hour of rest before he received a buzz on his phone. He pulled it out of his side pants pocket and looked at it. His ears twitched in happiness and got off his bunk. He walked out of his room and down the hallway which led to the main deck thoroughfare with a bit more spring in his step than usual. When he crossed the door, he saw Sally _and_ Sonic standing there.

"Little bro!" Sonic said, lunging out and grabbing him in a tight hug.

Tails shook off sleep quickly and hugged his best friend back. He hadn't seen Sonic in weeks. He hadn't learned much about little Sonia. He then crossed to Sally and hugged her as well.

"You made it!"

"Sorry, we were late." the Princess of Knothole said. "Logistics are terrible right now. They're restricting all travel until you guys make the crossing."

"How did you get here?"

"We docked the _Acorn_." she responded.

The special frigate, Miles remembered. A unique ship built in EUS-39 – Jolee's home universe. It was technically a diplomatic ship owned and operated by the Kingdom though it flew under the UNSC flag.

"How are you feeling?" Sonic asked. "Going on a big adventure?"

"I'm feeling good." Miles said. "Feeling OK."

"Tails, are you sure?" Sally asked. "Because I can talk to Captain Ekdal and we can transfer you out."

"No." Miels said simply. "Please, don't do that. I can't leave Sarge, Ryan... or Jolee. They need me."

Sally raised an eyebrow. " _Jolee_ 's here?"

"My reaction as well. But, I made a commitment." He nodded. "Yes. I have to follow through with it. I volunteered."

"Proud of you, kiddo. Actually, I shouldn't be calling you that anymore."

A canine popped from the corner of Miles' smile. "What about you, 'pops'?"

Sonic chuckled. "Still getting used to that. Don't know if I'm ready to settle down yet though. There's always an adventure to go on."

"How does it feel though?"

Sonic's eyes lit up. "Sonia is the most beautiful thing in the world."

"You're a good dad." Sally said nudging him in the shoulder.

"You're not so bad yourself."

Sally bobbed her brow. "Yeah."

Tails cut in. "How's Freddy doing?"

Sally started to pace. The heels of her boots impacted surprisingly loudly in the hall. She was dressed in loose fitting cargo clothing but she wore a fine jacket that seemed to clash with the utilitarian garments underneath. "Sasha's taking care of him." Sally said. "I only get to see him every month or so." she smiled though. "He reads to his teddy bear. I think he's going to be an artist too, the way Sasha tells it. He draws on the wall!" she giggled at that. "I didn't do that as a kid!"

But Miles answered back with a serious question. "Does he recognize you? I mean, as his mother?"

Sally's smile vanished. "No." she shook her head. "No, he doesn't. I doubt he ever will until he's old enough to be told the truth. If he's ever told the truth. But... he looks just like his father. Every day it shows."

"Next time you see him give him Uncle Tails' love. Give him a gift. Like a Tails Doll or something!"

"I'll give him a kiss on the cheek from you!" Sally said.

"Can I be honest with you both?"

There was a beat between them.

"Sure, buddy." Sonic said.

"I meant what I said before. I'm doing this. But... I'm scared. I'm not scared of not coming back. I'm scared of the Prisoner. We're actually doing this. We're really going to fight it."

"Fight it and _win,_ bro!" Sonic said clenching his fist. "We're going to send that primordial slime back to where it came from!"

"I think it... knows we're coming for it."

"Ah, it's just nerves." Sonic said.

"No, let him speak." Sally answered. "What do you mean?"

"I... think I can hear it in my dreams. I think I can hear it talking to me, but I can't understand it. Not just me, but... everyone."

Sally leaned in. "Don't let it win then." She knew better than anybody else what the will of this... thing could do to someone. "You're strong, Miles. Stronger than anybody I've ever known."

"Hey." Sonic groaned.

"Well, almost everyone." she smirked. "But if there's anybody that can outsmart the Prisoner, it can be you. You're a smart guy. Your smarts are your strength. Put your mind to it and you'll come out on top."

"Thanks for the pep talk."

"Just speaking the truth." She leaned in and hugged him again. "Oh I'm gonna miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Aunt Sally."

"Listen, one last word of advice. The Admirals don't want anybody to say anything about this, but I'll tell you. Tell Ekdal, but nobody else. You know Weyland?"

"Jeremy Weyland?" Miles asked. "The corporate mogul?"

"Weyland Materials Group." Sally nodded. "He's explored this universe beforehand. Rumor has it he abandoned it because he found something he wasn't ready for."

"Did he say what it was?" Miles asked.

"No."

"Suits like to sit on that information." Sonic said. "Maybe he'll drop a tip that this place is ripe for the taking and some schmuck takes the bait."

"I'd tell you to shut up if you probably weren't right." Sally said as a quick aside. She turned back to the fox. "Just be careful. Be on your guard, and please, tell Ekdal as soon as possible." she checked her watch. "OK, I can't stay. We need to undock soon or we'll have half of Home Fleet chewing our ears off." She kissed Miles on the head. "Be strong, buddy."

Sonic gave his friend another tight hug. "Anybody over there tries to knock you down, tell them Mobius gives them our regards. You're gonna do great pal."

"Say hi to Amy for me."

"I promise. Go get 'em, killer!" He broke off and followed Sally down the hall. They turned the corner and then they were gone. Miles stood alone in the hallway looking at the place where his friends left. He felt small, but then he realized what he could accomplish. His bravery rose in his breast. Without hesitating a second further, he made his way to the lift.

* * *

Space traffic control had cleared the surrounding area of all travel from both sides of the Jumpgate. No ships could travel until the crossing had been complete. Strict cordons had been established between Mobius and Earth. Military blockades formed a protective bubble around the jumpgate so that the ships could pass through. Below, the moon seemed to rotate, which was odd since it was tidally locked to the Earth. The Jumpgate orbited above it, just passing from the night side into the brightness. Three ships were hanging just in front of the gate, ready to await final authentication that the mission was a-go.

Gregers Ekdal sipped a coffee and sighed. Miles Prower stood just in front of him behind the command table of his bridge.

"So, Weyland chickened out, eh?"

"He believed that there was something dangerous there."

"Rightly so. The readings were off the chart."

"We're still pushing forward?"

"We have to." Ekdal said drinking some more coffee. "We agreed to the mission."

"Can we at least get a few more ships with us then?"

"No." Ekdal said firmly. "The amount of political logistics the Admiralty went through in the first place took almost two years to get worked out. This is not like when we came to Mobius, Mister Prower. Things are different now."

"Can I say something honestly, Captain?"

"Speak your mind, Mister Prower, though you need not ask my permission."

"I don't like where this is heading."

"May I speak truthfully?"

"Sir?"

Ekdal breathed a sigh and said in a hushed tone, "I don't know if I do either."

The alert sounded. Ekdal checked his watch and downed a good portion of his cup. "Alright boys and girls, this is it! Show time in sixty seconds! I want all stations ready to go on my order!" He quickly strode across the bridge glancing at each position as he passed. Lieutenants of all stripes were hammering away at consoles and chattering into earpieces. "Engineering, you good? I want weapons at absolute zero and engines ready to answer on command." He did a quick survey of his helmsmen, two burly looking Junior Lieutenants who tapped their controls ready to respond to their captain. Ekdal nodded in satisfaction and strode up a small set of stairs to his command chair. It sat in the center of the

coffin-shaped bridge with a second just behind it. His Executive Officer sat in that seat – a young woman by the name of DeSoto. She had olive colored skin and close cropped brown hair that was tucked under a ship's cap. She looked like she was trying to copy Ekdal lovingly in that regard.

"Emilia, final status report?"

DeSoto nodded towards the Captain. "All sections reporting ready for action. Reactors operating at maximum capacity, backup chemical fuel at maximum, weapons topped off, and life support operating at 100% efficiency."

"Wonderful news." Ekdal smiled. He sipped again and took a seat. "Come, Lieutenant Prower, get a front row show!"

Tails gingerly walked forward. Some of the bridge crew turned to see him but went back to their tasks. Miles stood next to the Captain.

"Ten seconds till light up!"

The gate pulsed. Particle colliders all along it fired and tore holes in space time. Out of the fifteen people on the bridge, Tails was the only one who understood the process of how this worked, and even then, it amazed him to see such an amazing and conscious shunning of the laws of nature.

"She's lit!" the navigator yelled.

The pulse grew brighter and suddenly the chain reaction of higher dimensional annihilation was complete. The master coordinates were sent in, an insanely long list of 11th dimensional equations and frequencies that coincided with where they were headed to the best degree of certainty. The space within the ring flashed white.

Next to Ekdal, a hologram appeared. A man dressed as a Roman emperor made eye contact.

"Augustus." Ekdal said.

"Captain." the AI responded. "I have finished transmitting the coordinates to the gatemaster and we have been cleared for transit."

"Excellent. What of the other ships?"

"The _Colorado_ and the _Bastogne_ stand ready to transit. They are at your side here."

"Then we go. Would you like the honors?"

It was a time honored tradition to Gregers Ekdal. Let Augustus give the speech to set the mission off.

"I would like that, sir." Augustus cleared his throat. "Crew of the _Ontario,_ this is Augustus, shipboard AI and your humble servant." the AI smirked. "Today we begin our latest foray into the mysterious night, and as always, we conquer all. There are new faces aboard this vessel; new souls. We shall treat them to victory! We shall treat them to honor and valor! We shall retrieve greatness clutched tightly in our bloodied fists and hold it aloft for all to see! The Colosseum of Rome nor the shores of Germania would compare to the glory of what lay ahead of us!" Augustus took a second. "As many of you know, I am a fan of William Shakespeare. Most AIs are. "But it is _IVLIVS CAESAR_ in which the line rings true: 'Cry havoc and slip loose the dogs of war'; Act 3, Scene 1, Line 273! We are the dogs of war, crew of the _Ontario_! And when we are let loose, not even hell itself will be able to turn us back!" he paused for a beat. "We don't need luck. We make our own."

"Mission operation clock begins now." DeSoto said. "December two-one, three-two-four-one. Operation commencing at 1720 hours universal standard time!"

Ekdal leaned forward and grinned. "Mission group _Ontario_ :Engage! Group engines answer all ahead full! We are moving out!"

" _This is_ Bastogne; _engines answering all ahead full_."

"Colorado _answers all ahead full._ "

Miles stood with hands behind his back with a sense of pride and dread forming in his throat. He could only stare as the gate drew ever closer. He suddenly had a twinge of something he hadn't expected to feel now: excitement. The sense of adventure.

The trio of starships rocketed from their positions straight towards the waiting Jumpgate. The flotilla of guarding vessels stood by with hundreds watching the ships head to that threshold. Somewhere out there, the UNSC _Acorn_ was among them. Her crew on its feet to wish the sailors and marines farewell and the luck of the Ancestors. Before they could even finish, the ships dipped into the immaterium, and then one by one, they were gone.


	6. Chapter 5: Requiem

Chapter 5: Requiem  
December 21, 3241, 0220 hours  
Gorges 86-2 System, Forerunner Designate "Epoloch"  
Suspected Location of Forerunner Shield World "Requiem"

/Begin Log/

 **Daily report filed, tagged Lieutenant John-117; status is as follows:**

 **System insertion has been completed at approximately 0157 hours Universal Standard Time, December Twenty First, 3241. Status of team is green. The expedition group assigned to locate the target the UNSC has designated 'Requiem' also reports nominal status. Dilation effect is minimal; all ships arrived within twenty minutes of each other, though astrogation suggests that the group emerged beyond the orbit of the target planet, located in second position around B2V-class star. Requiem is believed to be an artificial construct of Builder rate origin, and if intel is correct, it is the resting place of the Forerunner Warrior-Servant known as the Didact.**

 **In addition to myself, Spartans Kim and Armand have been assigned as support. The UNSC presence is more for our security rather than the other way around.**

 **ONI believes it possible that Forerunner elements may still be active within the Shield World given interactions with two additional Shield fortifications. We are unsure if Requiem has defensive capabilities. We are prepared to respond if necessary.**

/End Log/

John-117 strode into the bridge of the ONI Prowler. The already small quarters felt almost claustrophobic to the Spartan. He was wrapped in the MJOLNIR armor he had worn since his discovery in EUS-39 several years ago. The suit had been given a new olive paint job and the addition of a bright red Greek letter: Omega. It was painted on his right shoulder, signifying that not only he was a part of it, but that he was the commanding officer of the Special Operations team known by the same name: OMEGA.

Its origins pre-dated his arrival; a ragtag clash of Mobians and Humans that stuck together to fight Julian Kintobor, known also to the UNSC as Robotnik. Since then, Mobians integrated themselves into the Human military nicely. Kim was an example of this. She was a border collie, though from a distance, she appeared as Human as John was, which was not something that could be said lightly either. She was svelte, but was muscled as any Spartan would be. She was out of her armor, dressed in crew fatigues and sitting at Ops. Whatever hair she allowed herself to grow was short, barely a half inch. It was the same color as her black fur. Armand was bulkier. His body was covered in knotted muscles. Scars covered large swaths of his exposed skin, which included his bald head. His skin was the color of olive, showing Mediterranean heritage. He was standing behind the helmsman of the Prowler as she clicked several controls to keep their roll stable.

"Status." John commanded.

"We're in parking orbit now. Mean velocity is seven kilometers per second. The rest of the group is finishing final maneuvers." The helmsman tapped several panels to adjust the finer positioning of the ship. Though the Spartan couldn't feel it, small RCS thrusters fired all over the hull. The Prowler slowly flipped so that the planet appeared to orient with the sun being 'above' it.

"Lieutenant." The COM officer with the rank of Commander on her shoulder said. "Stand by for Admiral Weston!"

John nodded at the officer and stepped towards the center of the cramped bridge. A holotable was placed near the lift, which was beginning to pulse as a call from the command vessel was coming in. John tapped the 'ACCEPT' key. The image of Admiral Benjamin Weston took form. Even in holographic form, the admiral's distinctive scar spanning from left temple to jaw was unmistakable. The eye on the left side of his face gave the impression of being artificial as a result."

"Admiral Weston, sir."

" _At ease, son_." Weston said. " _No need for any of us to get tensed up. What's the status of your Prowler_?"

"We've achieved orbit and are beginning scans on Requiem."

" _Good. No doubt when the rest of the fleet coordinates in the process we can get some better idea of just what the hell it is. Is there anything you've been able to determine_?"

John huffed silently. "It isn't natural."

" _No shit_." Weston said. A gurgling laugh came from his throat. " _Guess the Spartan IIs did have a sense of humor after all._ "

"Aside from the obvious, initial scanning hasn't been able to penetrate the outer shell. We'll need to wait until we can breach the Shield World until we can get any additional information."

At that exact moment, Cortana shimmered into view. "I can continue running handshake protocols with the Forerunner constructs. Maybe I can sweet-talk my way past their lockouts."

" _Excellent work, Cortana. How soon can we expect a result_?"

"Anywhere between twenty and fifty hours."

Weston rubbed his nose. " _Fifty hours, tops_?"

"I can work faster if you'd like."

" _No, Cortana. Take your time. It will allows us to secure the area. Though once you establish a connection, I want to be notified immediately_."

"Of course, Admiral."

" _Carry on, Spartan_." Weston said before killing the connection.

John looked at the hologram of his long-time friend. "Fifty hours?"

"I can probably do it in ten."

"Are they saying anything interesting?"

"The usual stuff. Forerunner systems tend to sound the same after a while; asking for verification. I'm trying to give them codewords and phrases we've picked up on Installations 04, 05, and 00, but they don't seem to be working so far. I have a theory though that we need to use phrases that were common to whoever controlled this sort of installation. In this case, it would be Warrior-Servants.

"Do you know any of those?"

"Not much. Not enough to get a response. They spoke an entirely different dialect of the Forerunner language."

"We have to try anyway."

Cortana crossed her arms. "Alright. Get me closer and I'll see if I can convince the ancillas to let me in."

John crossed the bridge back to the helmsmen.

"Sir." One of them said. He twisted around in his seat. "Orders?"

"Take us in closer. We're going to see if we can gain access."

"We're going to have to clear it with the command vessel."

"I think they'll understand." Cortana said. "If you would be so kind as to take us to a two hundred kilometer orbit?"

The helmsman nodded. "Yes ma'am." He turned to his partner. "Spin up engines to full. Take us in.

"Aye, engines answering all ahead full." the other helmsman acknowledged.

The Prowler's twin engines glowed blue as it rocketed away from the group. The relatively small craft appeared even tinier against the alien shell of Requiem. As soon as the Prowler was clear of the other UNSC ship, it turned and fired its engines retrograde. At once, the distant lights of the UNSC ships seemed to launch into the distance as the stealth vessel slowed down. When it the Prowler had bled off enough speed, it drifted closer to the planet. Coasting on pure inertia, it fells towards periapse. Though it took some time, Requiem appeared to fling over the ship. In a few hours, they were a scant couple hundred kilometers above the surface. Even at this altitude it was possible to see intricate designs etched into the surface. Overlapping lattices and interwoven metallic patterns went along the globe. Massive lights pulsed from within and lines of energy lit up every now and again. Construction of such a thing must have taken centuries, if not millennia. The crew sat in awe of the planet, even if it was just an outer shell.

"Hell of a DIY project." Kim said, looking up through the viewport. "Do you think the Forerunners had money?"

"I'm sure they had some method of exchange." Cortana said.

"I'm sure this would have bankrupted several planets worth."

"Remember, Spartan," Cortana reminded, "the reach of the Forerunners was incredibly great. Even today we can only grasp an inkling of it. Even something as complex as Requiem would have only been a drop in the bucket to the Ecumene."

"Blows my mind." Kim said. She shook her head in amazement and her ear twitched. "What about you, Armand? Any profound thoughts?"

"Think I can get a beer on this Forerunner rock?"

Some of the crew smiled.

Cortana chimed in. "I'm going to try running what I know on the Warrior-Servants. It may not be enough to trigger a response, but… wait. I'm picking something up…" her eyes darted around. Her systems were assaulted by new data that she couldn't process. It overwhelmed her instantly. "John! I think something's noticed us!"

Just then, a burst of energy flashed through the bridge. Orange light flooded the compartment, sliding through every square inch. A screaming noise deafened everyone. Kim in particular grabbed both her ears and doubled over on the console. She stamped her feet in pain and gritted her teeth.

John's pulse spiked. "What's that?!"

"Jesus Christ!" the COM officer shouted. "What the hell just hit us?! My console's overloaded! What… what is this?" Characters scrolled across the screen. It looked like static at first but then it resolved itself. Dialogue certainly not of any Human culture flowed like water. Among it all, a symbol.

"Cortana?" the COM officer asked. "Please advise?"

"This… this is Forerunner language… this could be Warrior-Servant script! Yes, I know some of these words! It's a protocol to… scan us. It's pierced our systems! I didn't even see it coming. Wait. Wait, wait, wait."

John made his way to the COM station. "I've seen this before." He couldn't place where though.

Before he could complete his thought, the panel flashed a message from the command vessel. It was Admiral Weston. John tapped the button to accept the call.

" _Spartan, I don't know what you just did down there, but something just scanned our ships! That planet just cut into our systems and we're locked out! All ships are reporting loss of all critical systems except for Life Support and Communications. Artificial Gravity is down on all ships and we're dead in the water_!"

"We still have propulsion, sir. We have been scanned though."

" _Whatever's in that planet obviously thinks your special. Any theories_?"

"None, sir." John said. It was a half-lie. He wasn't sure if he wanted to spew off theories right now.

" _If you've got propulsion, pull back now! That planet's opening up_!"

Cortana was surprised by the order. "Opening up? No, Admiral! That's our chance to get inside!"

" _Not without the fleet! A Prowler isn't a combat ship_!"

"We're probably not going to get another shot at this!" Cortana urged.

Up ahead, a massive shaft of light appeared poking through the artificial crust of the planet. At the speed the Prowler was orbiting, it would cross it in a matter of minutes.

"We need to make a decision." Kim said. "That opening's coming up pretty fast. Either we're in or not."

"Admiral, I urge you, let us take the chance! There's a reason we weren't shut down. I think whatever's inside Requiem wants us inside. Frankly, I think it has the power to take us whether we want it or not! Advise the rest of the fleet to form a perimeter around the opening in geosynch once you regain power!"

"Goddamit!" Weston groaned. " _Alright, I'm trusting you on this one! Get in there and establish a surface presence! As soon as you clear an area and report back in, we're coming after you_!"

"Just lost attitude controls!" the starboard helmsman shouted. RCS systems are offline! Main engines are offline!"

Kim tapped a control panel. "Engineering, somebody tell me what the hell is going on! I want those engines back now!"

"It's no use!" Cortana said. "Power's being forcibly rerouted! That scan must have inserted some malignant code into the Prowler's computer! We're still moving towards the opening! We're not under our own power tough!"

"Armand! I want you to secure the other compartments!" John barked. "Tell the ONI personnel to buckle down and prepare for hard landing!"

"Aye aye, sir!" Armand nodded, moving at once to the lift.

"Hard landing?" Cortana questioned. "Expecting the worst?"

"We do have a reputation." The Spartan answered back.

"Alright, we're losing altitude now! That thing's pulling us in!" the port helmsman said. "Advise sounding collision alarm."

"Agreed." The Lieutetant said.

A shrill tone filled the ship. Everyone started to brace for what they were sure would be an emergency landing.

"We protect the ship and the crew. Cortana, do we still have shields?"

"Yes." She said at once. "They're still operational. I can boost them. I mean, I do have the spare power."

"Do it." John said quickly.

The opening was now directly below them. The shaft of light the crew saw before was in fact blue sky. Clouds coalesced below the ship, and the barest hints of snow-capped mountains waited on what was the true surface of Requiem.

The COM crackled to life. Weston was sending them a transmission. " _Sierra one-one-seven, respond! We're tracking your beacon towards the opening! Is everything alright, son_?"

"Negative, Admiral!" Cortana shouted. "The Prowler is not responding to input! I think Requiem has a hold of us! We're going in whether we like it or not!"

" _Try to fight it_!"

"We're completely locked out!" Cortana reported. "We're crossing the barrier in ten seconds!"

The hull stressed from being tugged in space forcibly. Numerous alarms went off. The helmsmen slammed blast shields down over the viewports and activated backup monitors that projected the landscape beyond. The displays screamed red and urged the crew to give more power to the engines, but by then it was far too late. The Prowler coasted a few more kilometers before sharply angling down through the opening in the Shield World's shell.

"Hang on!" Kim advised. "This is gonna be gnarly!"

The Prowler hit a cushion of air waiting for them, buffeting the craft and pressing the ONI personnel into their seats. John kept his grip iron tight on the COM station, though he could clearly feel the blood rushing to the back of his head. His vision became a vignette. Darkness tugged at the corners of his sight.

Kim barely fared better. The Mobian Spartan was feeling the same effects. The corners of her mouth were tugged by the G-forces, revealing her pointed teeth.

"Tell me we can pull up!" She managed to speak.

"I… I've got atmospheric flight!" The port helmsman said. "I think I can get fly by wire working…"

"Do it fast! I think I'm gonna hurl!" Kim groaned.

"Aim for the COMs station!" Armand said. "He owes me ten bucks!"

"Let me handle it!" Cortana said. "Everyone sit tight! This is going to be rough!"

The altitude reader started to blare. Outside, the peaks of mountains began to pass the Prowler. Cortana pulled back hard on the stick. The flaps on the sides of the ship's body as well as on the wing angled sharply to bleed off speed. Metal stressed and groaned as the wings caught the air.

"Come on! Come on!" Cortana urged. The vertical speed was lowering, but would it be enough before the Prowler hit the ground? The monitor then started to scream an alarm. They were still heading down fast.

The Prowler's nose angled upwards. The engines were pointed nearly directly at the ground firing at full throttle as much as she could force them. It wasn't enough, so she slapped the afterburners on. Raw fuel was dumped into the ignition source to create more thrust. She hoped as well, the lower weight would work with them.

The bridge crew had passed out a minute before. Their arms hung in the air as the vessel was fighting free-fall. Their blanks faces and dull eyes were unaware of their current situation. Armand and Kim were still conscious but were fighting the G-forces hard. Only John seemed to be unaffected completely.

"Twelve seconds to impact!" Kim said. "I'm not dying like this!"

"I know! Shut up!" Cortana said. "We're going to make it!"

She had run the calculations, but the real world rarely worked according to plan.

Regardless, Kim did the sign of the cross.

But the altimeter's screaming stopped. The readings were showing that the vertical speed had fallen enough. They were no longer going down, but rather up.

"Got it!" Cortana said. "We're safe!"

"Not too soon." Armand said.

"Good work, Cortana." John nodded. "Put us on the ground. Kim, Armand, wake the crew. Go check the other compartments. Make sure we didn't lose anybody." John made his way over to the viewport of the now-stabilized bridge, raised the blast shields, and glanced out.

He wasn't expecting to see a sunny day.

What looked very much like the sun greeted his eyes. A mess of bright green trees, rock formations, and a rolling plain stretched out into the distance. The silvery structures of Forerunner make dotted the landscape, and massive structures that had to be several miles tall hovered in the air. They were like spears, reaching to something far beyond the cloud tops. And above that, barely visible through breaks in the fluff was the tell-tale sign of the artificial lattice and the shell that the Prowler had passed through to get in.

To use a term he didn't think often: it was beautiful.

John had to admit there was some appeal to the forest. I reminded him of Reach and his childhood. However, he couldn't let that get in the way of things now.

Cortana banked the Prowler and found a location to land. The ONI ship soon found a clearing in the trees that was about twice the wingspan of their craft. The landing gear extended and the belly jets held the spacecraft in the air for a few seconds as the system deployed. When they were perhaps a few feet from the grass, Cortana cut the jets and let the Prowler's mass bounce on the gear.

"Jets clear." She said. "Systems reporting no damage aside from a little stress on that entry. Aside from that, we are A-OK."

The bridge crew had begun to come around by the moment the ship touched down. Armand and Kim had gone through the rest of the ship. A few injuries had been reported, but no fatalities were found. It was a good result to an unexpected start to the operation.

John walked back to the Ops table. He looked Cortana in the face. "What was that, exactly?"

"Couldn't tell you. That beam came from the opening of the shell. My guess it's meant to help guide ships into the opening like a tractor beam, but I didn't overhear any orders on who started it up."

"Are there perhaps living Forerunners here?" John asked.

"Possibly. I can't be certain. Judging on our previous encounters, the greater possibility is sentinels or a monitor." She placed her hand to her chin. "Except for the Didact of course, though I doubt he's personally controlling this."

"Do you have an idea where he could be?"

"No, not without getting a better understanding of the surrounding area."

The bridge opened again. Kim and Armand re-entered the bridge.

"Spartans: I have a job for you." She said.

"Sure, what's up?" Armand asked. His tone was hopeful that he would be getting off the ship. He wanted to get some dirt between his toes after that stunt.

"I'm having a bit of a hard time tapping into the systems of this planet. I'm probably being locked out. Warrior-Servants are likely far more conservative with their systems access than Lifeworkers. Until I can get a location of a Cartographer locked down, I need you two to scout the area. Find some clues as to important structures. You find anything that can give us access to a map or a transportation net, let me know immediately."

"Of course." Kim nodded. "You want us armed?"

"Definitely." Cortana said. "Though if you see a threat, you let it act first."

"Don't turn this whole planet hostile." John urged.

"We won't." Kim reassured. "Come on, Armand. I'm tired of flying for a while."

The pair turned and re-entered the elevator. It slid shut behind them. The sound of the bridge crew communicating with the other departments filled John's ears.

"In the meantime, I'm going to try and get a message to Admiral Weston."

"Sorry, Cortana." One of the bridge officers said. He appeared at the table. "I just tried that. My signal was bounced back to me."

"You're kidding." The AI said. "Try it again."

"I tried three times. It was a clear loop. It's like it can't even get past the shell."

Cortana herself tried, but saw the officer was correct. Not a peep was making it through the shell. "Well, that's a complication."

"Someone really wants to keep us quiet." John said. "You think it could be the Didact?"

"First of all, we find the Cartographer." Cortana said. "Once we do that and secure a communications channel, then we can worry about the Didact. Right now I want to let Weston know his two hundred million credit Prowler and Spartans haven't gone down in a ball of fire."


	7. Chapter 6: Concentrated Chaos

Chapter 6 : Concentrated Chaos  
December 24th, 3241, 1535 hours  
UNSC _Ontario  
_ En route to EUS-1840

Miles put down the cup that was in his hand. The whiskey that the Captain broke out for the occasion slipped down his throat, causing him to momentarily feel tension in his neck muscles. He was not a heavy drinker at all. Even though he had indulged in the few occasions over the past year, the alcohol now was stronger than any that he had before. He looked at the remains in the cup, a small ring wrapped around the plastic bottom.

Norwegian vodka, straight from the reserves on the fjords. Captain Ekdal was busy mingling with his crewmates. Miles turned and saw him in the middle of a joke. Ekdal was waving his hands around, angling his head, and clearly was miming out the delivery. Then he threw the punchline out there. The trio of crewmen threw their heads back and laughed heartily. If it was one thing that Tails could appreciate of the captain, it was that he thought himself as part of the crew and not above it.

A clear breach of protocol to be sure. That was in the OCS test that they gave him on Luna. A formality for him when looked at in hindsight. He tried to look for Johnson, but he couldn't see him. Ryan was chatting with Jolee near one of the tables at the far end of the galley. Before he knew it, Ekdal strode across the deck and placed a hand on the Mobian's shoulder.

"Ah, Merry Christmas, Lieutenant." He had a fresh drink in his hand, but he seemed stone cold sober. Even his speech was unbroken. If Ekdal was drunk, he was doing a damn fine job of pretending not to be. "The festivities may seem out of place on this assignment, but I want you to know that I have the best of intentions for my people. Their needs are just as important." He looked at the glass. "What's the matter, you don't like it?"

"Huh?" Tails asked. "Oh, the drink. Sorry, I'm just not much of a drinker yet."

Ekdal walked around the table where Miles was sitting. He pulled the chair on the opposite side out and sat down. Ekdal took his cap off and scratched at his scalp, placing the drink in his hand on the table. "My great-grandfather liked to say that he got to be 250 through nothing but drinking a glass of fine brandy once a day. I'll never know if it was true or not, but in the end, he made it to that and then some. He died fishing; no joke. 274 years of age after catching one of the biggest fish he ever got. My great grandmother liked to say he died of joy.

"Humans can live that long?" Miles asked, impressed.

"Mister Prower, I think you of all of us can believe that there are things that push us beyond our boundaries. The world is changing, and we change with it. Like the current of a stream. But while the current carries us, we can use it to our advantage. Sorry, I have my mind on sailing." He chuckled, and then drank some of his alcohol.

"Sir, does something seem wrong to you?" Miles asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked after clearing his throat.

Miles leaned in closer to Ekdal. "It's been three days since we've entered the stream. We should have been deposited in 1840 nearly as soon as we crossed that gate."

Ekdal nodded. "What you say is true of course. It has been quite a while. Augustus believes that there is some… unusual activity with this particular jump."

Tails looked back to the reveling crew. "Is it… something we need to tell them about?"

"We'll do no such thing." Ekdal said with a serious tone of voice. "The last thing we need right now is any indication that things are proceeding unusually. Besides, let's not dance around it: 95% of the crew has no idea how we're actually going from one universe to another."

Miles had to admit that yes, a common person would see this as pure magic. He was inclined to agree with the Captain to keep his mouth shut. So he changed the subject. "What about Weyland's people? What's going to happen when we make contact?"

"We ignore them." Ekdal said. "Our business isn't with them, assuming we end up around their operations. Remember, we don't have a jumpgate set up on the other side. We're essentially eye-balling it in terms of our calculations."

It was potentially dangerous, but what else could they do?

"Speaking of crossing over," Miles suddenly said with a thought forming in his mind, "did we figure out how we're supposed to bring whatever we find _back_? Redby and Andsworth believe that this object or power exists here, but what if it's a superweapon? What if it's bigger than this whole ship?"

Ekdal chuckled and took another sip. "Well son, I hadn't thought of that myself either. I assumed we were looking for Chaos Emeralds all over again or the rough equivalent…" he took a sip from his cup. "But you may be right; I don't know if the Admiralty's considered that little tidbit but..." Ekdal was about to take another drink, but something caught his eye beyond the galley's window.

Miles' ear twitched as he gazed at Ekdal. The man's face seemed to turn a shade whiter. "Captain?" he asked for a second when Ekdal had not blinked. "Captain, is something wrong?"

Ekdal averted his gaze from what was outside the window. "Ah, uh, sorry son. I just could have sworn that… I saw something out there."

Miles flipped around and looked out from the galley's port window where they stood. It was a small but superbly armored piece of transparent metal. Out towards the stern, the young man could see the port drive nacelle somewhat lit by the interior lights. Much of the superstructure was in shadow as the eternal blackness of Slipspace covered whatever the artificial means of illumination could not.

Tails looked long and hard. Try as he might, he could not see anything out in that void.

"Sir, I don't see anything out there."

"I know, but..." he muttered something in Norwegian. Ekdal took a pace toward the window and leaned on the wall brace. The material was cold to his touch. Slipspace technically had no temperature, but it was still chill to have his fingers on the 'glass' of the viewport. "… maybe it could have been a comet that plowed into the stream somehow..."

"We would have noticed it when we initiated crossover." Miles shook his head. "Besides, a comet that close to Earth would have a tail and would set off a hundred different alarms."

"Ejected trash maybe?" He nodded. "Most likely."

Miles nodded in agreement. He truthfully wasn't in the mood to discuss what Captain Ekdal may or may not have seen out there in Slipspace, but the longer that he spoke about it to the man, the more uncomfortable he was about it. It had been several days since crossover was initiated, and the possibility of 'seeing something' made his hairs stand on end.

But then, his eyes went wide. Tails leaped from his seat and stood at the window. Small streaks of starfire had appeared at what seemed far in the distance. They were eternally far but at the same time so close he felt he could reach out and touch them. The streaks continued to increase in intensity and size.

"Captain!" Miles shouted.

Heads were up and drinks were forgotten. Marines and Navy ran to where they were to get a look at what was out there. The Captain's face was oddly smooth. Miles looked him in the eye. Gregers Ekdal wasn't smiling now.

"Mister Prower, with me to the bridge! Now!" he added quickly. "Everyone gets back to their bunkrooms and _nobody_ moves until I give the all-clear! Is that understood?!"

A small chorus of 'aye-ayes' from the men.

"What are you waiting for?! _Get moving!_ " the Captain shouted. The crowd dispersed in seconds. "Sergeant Johnson, take your men and vacate this area!"

"Understood." Johnson nodded. He waved his head and OMEGA such as it was followed the crewmen out of the galley.

Ekdal began to quickly jog for the door that led to the main elevator. Before he reached the lift, he found a COM station and quickly keyed in a command override. He held the receiver to his ear and said into the hand-held, "Attention attention! Crew of the _Ontario_ stand by for situation report. We are at Condition Yellow. I say again, stand by for situation report. All non-essential personnel are advised to return to bunking. That is all for now."

Soft pulsing lights started to run on the roof of the corridor. Ekdal waved him along and continued down the pathway, taking a left at the first intersection, heading towards the central thuroughfare passageway of the ship. There were lifts spaced several places through this. However, he looked for a special command access lift that could only be used by bridge crew and those with authorization.

"Any theories, Mr. Prower?"

"None, sir." Miles said quickly. "All crossovers have gone pretty smoothly but this is different!"

"Evidently." Ekdal breathed. "Ah, here we are. You're riding with me son. I want you on the bridge so we can figure out what's going on."

" _Captain Ekdal."_ DeSoto's voice said crackling over the radio in the command lift. " _This light show's getting a bit weird now!_ "

"Please explain!" Ekdal said, trying not to look like this was freaking him out.

" _For lack of better term reality seems to be imploding_." the second voice was that of Augustus. " _If you haven't arrived on the bridge, I advise you do so quickly. Also, I recommend that we elevate the threat level to Red._ "

"Why?" Ekdal asked.

"… _I think that it would be best if you saw what we're heading into, sir."_

 _"_ I hate it when he leaves me guessing." Ekdal said under his breath to Miles.

The command lift rocketed up the shaft, clearing all of the other decks and bypassing directly to the bridge. Ekdal fit through the door when there was enough room. Miles was right behind him, making sure his tails were not caught in the closing door. The bridge was bathed in pulsing yellow lights. Augustus was standing just above his holo-tank with helmet tucked under his one hand and the other resting on the hilt of his gladius. Augustus made eye contact with Ekdal as he approached the viewport. The AI took a quick glance out the viewport, looked back at Ekdal, and made a look that could be described with the word ' _yeesh_ '.

The viewport was a kaleidoscope of color and shapes. The streaks from down below were still there, but spheres were whipping past the ship. They appeared to be planets, but they were moving far too quickly to be put into great detail. There were also hundreds of them.

Then lightning appeared.

"Yeah, Condition Red." Ekdal said. "Go to Condition Red."

The bridge crew got to work. Commander DeSoto broadcast a warning to the crew to stay in their quarters and that the threat has escalated.

"Mister Prower, I believe I read once that the crew of the _Indomitable_ once experienced visual phenomena much like this on their first crossover to Mobius in '34?"

"The _Phoenix_ as well." Miles shook his head as he recalled Captain Allen Perry and the crew of that ship that never made it home. "But they were nothing like this."

The lightning strike increased in intensity. The mood was of near panic. Only the training of the bridge staff kept them calm, though they had no idea what was awaiting them here. The apparent planets zipped past the _Ontario_ at an increasing rate of speed.

De Soto punched at her command console. "Captain, I'm getting COM signatures coming from... I don't even know what we're in anymore!"

"Where are they coming from?" Ekdal demanded, now jogging across the bridge looking at any screen he could find.

"No fixed position! Bearing zero-nine... no it changed position! One-six-five... there it goes again! It's coming from everywhere at once!" She started to sweat and pulled at the collar of her uniform. "COMs, what's the status of our detection arrays?"

"Radar, Lidar, and Subspace are reporting all normal!" the COMs officer said. She was a Mobian cervine in her twenties with her OCS training now starting to tear at the seams. Her cap felt so tight around her head that she could feel every pulsation of her rapidly beating heart. The young woman ripped it from her head, allowing some air to reach her scalp. Her ears were on edge as numerous reports suddenly began to stream through her console.

"Captain, I'm getting reports of... something happening... on all decks!"

"What is it, Sneijder?!" Ekdal asked.

"Engineering is reporting... sir, they're _screaming_ down there." her voice trailed off. She couldn't believe she read it. Sneijder stared at Ekdal with those big eyes of hers. They were wide with fear.

Ekdal looked at Miles, who was now swallowing quickly. Prower saw Ekdal's gaze, but didn't offer a response. Miles was actually terrified in this moment, as he had no idea what was waiting for them out here. This could be how they would die. He waited on the Captain.

"Patch it through." he told the Mobian.

"Aye-aye, sir... patching Engineering in now." Sneijder took a deep breath and tapped the bridge COMs and then opened the channel to Engineering.

A shrill noise came through the bridge speakers that was instantly recognizable as the sounds of Human anguish. The sounds of crying and screaming were loud in the background. A sane voice tried to fight through the horrors. It sounded like a young man.

" _Captain! Please tell me you're receiving!_ "

Ekdal ran over to COM station and stood just over Sneijder's shoulder. The cervine had placed the cap back on her head and tucked her ears just under the side panels. She tried to keep the signal steady as something was starting to interfere with the signal.

"I'm here son! What's going on down there?" Ekdal's voice was quick and clipped. His accent was stronger now and he had to repeat himself.

" _This is Crewman Jeffery Korwin! Sir, they're killing each other down here!_ "

Ekdal's nails dug into the back of Sneijder's chair. "Where's Chief Gatti?"

" _Chief Gatti's... he's just in the middle of him! They're just screaming... no... no they're not anymore. It sounds... sir, I think it sounds like they're chanting!_ "

"Can you get Security?"

" _They're trying to get in through the door! They're trying to cut in, sir!_ "

"Stand by!" Ekdal said, reaching in and tapping several controls on Sneijder's console. He quickly found the security team of sailors trying to get into Engineering. The camera feed from outside of the compartment showed several petty officers with plasma torches cutting at the metal door. Sparks jumped all over the hallway bouncing off of walls and security personnel. Two were armed with shotguns. Green-tinged shells on a holder indicated beanbag rounds were loaded.

"Bridge to Security Team 12, respond." Ekdal said over the COM. The one in charge backed away and tapped his earpiece.

" _Security Team 12, go ahead, Bridge._ "

"What's going on down there, Chief?"

" _We're trying to get into Engineering now. Door's locked and our overrides aren't working_."

"Augustus, can you get it open?" Ekdal said calling to the AI.

"Yes, I can." the Roman Centurion responded. "Just give me a second to get in there and force it open."

"Mister Prower, get down to Engineering and try to get us to drop out of Slipspace... or... whatever this is..." Ekdal glared out the window.

Miles stood somewhat frightened by the prospect of the chanting which still came through the COM panel. Even sealed behind the door, somehow it was audible. But the Captain had given him an order and he had to do something. He knew how to actually override the engines and drop them out of the Slipstream without destroying the ship in the process. He was surprised nobody had done this yet, but the fact that it hadn't been done meant that either the engineers were out of commission, or were part of this circus.

"Mister Prower?"

Miles stopped before he found the executive lift. He stared back at Ekdal, whose face was grim.

"Go armed."

Miles nodded and went into the elevator.

* * *

Many of the areas were under lockdown. When he got off the elevator, he was met by a security officer. The Petty Officer Third Class immediately told him to get back his bunk.

"I need to get to Engineering!" Tails said. "Captain's orders!"

"Why would he need to send you there?" The officer said. The look in her eye said she didn't buy it at all.

"Are you questioning my orders, Petty Officer?" Miles suddenly asked in a low, but even voice.

The woman's eyes slipped to his shoulders. She saw a single white bar on both sides, and her jaw dropped slightly. She backed off and said, "My apologies, sir." she said this last word with a bit of effort. Miles was almost ten years younger than her. "What can I do to help?"

The hull gave a terrific groan. The stressing of metal echoed down the hallway. For a moment, Miles was afraid that the ship was going to break in two. When the creaking and rolling of the metal subsided, he said to the Petty Officer, "Can you get me through the bulkheads?"

"Yes." She said.

"I need a gun. Captain's orders." he said. "Could I have your belt?"

"Why on Earth..."

"You want to see what's going on in Engineering?"

As if on cue, distant screaming started to echo through piping and the lights went out. The entire hallway was plunged into darkness. The emergency lighting flickered on, momentarily bathing the hallway in a blood red glow.

"Come on!" the security officer said. "You can't have my gun, but we'll stop at the deck's security office!"

Just as they began to move, the emergency lighting failed. In the dark, soft pulsing alarms were the only thing to keep them company. Miles' eyes adjusted to the darkness before the officer's. What little light there was from even more rudimentary sources revealed doorways.

"Follow me." he told the woman. He grabbed her hand and they moved through the ship, compartment by compartment. Horrible noises came through the intercom that didn't seem to come from anything Human. Miles was afraid. No sound came from the engines at all anymore. There was only silence except for the alarms, air flowing through the vents, as well as the creaking of metal.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the security station. It was indicated by a curved wall with a curved window. A letter S was painted on the wall, though it was barely visible in the dark.

"We're here." he announced.

"I'll unlock the door. I think there's still power." she sounded unsure, but went to the keypad. Miles kept watch. The room they were in was large, easily thirty feet across. Multiple hallways met here, and a lift was situated against the stern wall. Miles had only passed through here once or twice going to his bunkroom. For starship standards, it was massive. However, now it was dark. Hallways that branched away faded into nothingness.

He was alone and unarmed. He needed to get his hand on a weapon. He didn't like this at all, and the longer that he was cut off, the more frightened he got.

"Shit!" The officer cried. "Door's jammed. I can get the manual override to get it open."

She reached around until she found a latch at the side of the door.

"I thought you said there was power!" Miles hissed, looking around. His heart was pounding quickly.

"There is power, but the door just won't... got it!" She pulled on the manual release latch and the door slid apart far enough for her to pull it apart with her hands. Inside, two computers sat along the back wall. They were on, but nothing readable was on the screen. Chairs were tossed about, as if someone was inside before them. A weapon locker was quickly located.

"What do you want, Lieutenant?" the petty officer asked.

"Something big." Miles said.

"M110 Automatic Shotgun." she said, lifting the gun out of its holder on the wall. "35-shell drum mag. You want the beanbags or the manstoppers?" she handed the gun to the Mobian who held it tightly.

"Give me the lethals." Miles said quietly. "I don't want to use them though."

The officer nodded and passed him three drums of 12-gauge shells. Miles slipped one into the receiver of the shotgun he was given. In the light of the computer screen, he could see the red hull of the triple-ought buckshot as it sat in the open chamber. Miles flicked the slide release. The gun made a sharp clack as the shell was slid into the chamber by the bolt, making it ready to fire.

Prower clicked the safety on and held his right forefinger carefully off the guard. He grabbed webbing from the petty officer and slung it over his shoulders and around his waist. He placed the other magazines on it. He was ready to go now.

"Do you think you need all of this?" the officer asked.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." he responded, not really answering her question. Tails heard something shift behind, then it made a sound, almost like laughter. Miles' heart froze. He turned around and saw something in the doorway. It was large, easily as large as the door, making it almost seven feet high. It had four arms and a mouth far too large for it.

Miles' eyes went wide. He couldn't even speak. Words died in his throat, but his jaw went slack. He tried to back away from it, but it took steps towards him as quickly as he could backpedal. Soon he was up against the wall of the computer panel and light from the screen illuminated the unknowable horror that was in front of him, lighting its light pink skin and pupiless golden eyes. The thing looked at him, sniffed once, grinned with hundreds of sharp pointed teeth that dripped with venom, and then it screamed.

* * *

Sneijder clapped her hands around the side of her head and began to scream wildly, unable to control herself. It caught Ekdal immediately by surprise as he jumped and hit his head off the top of her station.

"Argh! _Ditt eple!_ " he growled, ripping his cap off and grabbing his scalp.

Sneijder didn't stop though. The bridge was suddenly on its feet. Security personnel began to run towards her as she twisted around in her seat, screaming on and on seemingly without even drawing breath.

"Someone get a hold of her!" De Soto shouted from the command chair. "Get her out of here!"

A security officer came towards Sneijder. The bulky looking Petty Officer Second Class looked uncomfortable stepping up to the screaming cervine. Sneijder's thin arms bent in ways that didn't seem to be possible. Her large eyes were open as if someone had held her limbs as far as they would stretch. Her pupils were the size of pinpricks, and her whole body shuddered.

"Now!" De Soto urged, slamming her hand into the arm rest.

The officer placed a hand on Sneijder's shoulder. The woman moved far too quick. Sneijder grabbed the officer's right wrist with her right hand, and with her left, slammed her fist down. The woman's closed fist hit the officer square on his radius, splintering the upper arm bone. Sneijder's fist kept on going, forcing the bone underneath, the ulna, to bend and fracture. In a split second, the officer's right hand was out of commission. The man cried out in pain and retracted, cradling his broken wrist.

Half the bridge was on their feet at once. Ensigns and Lieutenants began to shout, and some started to grab at Sneijder.

"Hanna, what the _fuck_!" the helmsman shouted.

The other two security officers pulled out batons, but Ekdal shouted for them to stand down.

"Everyone back away _now_!" he shouted. "Stand down, Miss Sneijder!"

Hanna's back arced as far as her spine would allow her. Her slender body hung in her chair as if pulled at by strings. Suddenly, she stopped and slumped. Her rear slid off the rest of the chair and she fell partially onto her knees. The crew waited for a second. A massive explosion of light went off outside of the ship far in the distance like a supernova and grabbed their attention. Twisted clouds of what was thought to be gas and dust spiraled around the viewscreeen, and what was more, there were small black dots keeping up with the ship, keeping pace with the vessel that was speeding through this hell.

There were living things out there.

Nobody paid attention to the computers. Everyone on the bridge looked towards the doe as she slowly started to move again. Had anybody been watching the security feeds, they would have noticed that strange things began to appear in Engineering. Creatures standing taller than men with odd colors to them.

"Hanna?" the helmsman asked again.

Sneijder got to her feet. A trickle of blood came out of her nostril and dripped onto the floor. Her body moved with an ethereal grace to it. She found her feet and stood there with eyes closed, not moving and not speaking. Her cap had fallen off, and her tight dirty blond bun of hair had unfurled close to her shoulders. Her ears drooped slightly, and her face looked as if she were asleep, without the pain she had just experienced.

"Hanna!" The TAC officer said.

Her eyes opened. There was a shine of light that came from them like spotlights. They radiated brightness. She showed no fear, and the voice that came from her was vaguely hers.

" _My Lord has felt your touch; your spirit. He is confused and surprised_."

"Miss Sneijder, I am ordering you to stand down and enter custody!" Ekdal said, ignoring the sound that came from the doe. "Security will escort you to a holding cell!"

" _This is unexpected_." the voice continued. " _But developments can be accounted for. Your speech I ripped from her mind, her thoughts are not well guarded. She is here, but I am in control._ "

Ekdal felt a lump form in his throat. "Who are you?"

Hanna smiled, but it was this new presence that controlled the muscles in her face. " _I am an envoy of my Lord, and he knows all that was and all that shall be, but you are new - alien to my Lord and his reach. Yet... you do not bear the touch of the Anathema. My Lord has... 'quarantined' you here._ " Sneijder snarled. " _This language has no music - it disgusts me to speak it. You will explain your presence_."

"Why?" Ekdal asked.

" _You must ask?_ " the voice said. " _This vessel means nothing to my Lord. It can be wiped from very existence, or will traipse the Warp for His pleasure for all eternity, yet you may be useful yet. I, Xiarghreb of the Third House, command this of you!_ " The voice amplified, and a ringing was felt in every eardrum of the bridge crew.

"What the hell's going on down in Engineering?" De Soto asked, and looked at the console. The Engineers were still in a circle around the center of the compartment, but two headed creatures stood at the perimeter of the group. Symbols appeared over the ground and strange lights danced all over the room.

" _We have already exacted payment for this conversation._ "

"What payment?!" Ekdal said at once.

" _Why, tribute._ " the voice said, and Sneijder shrugged. " _Answer, or this vessel and the lives aboard it are forfeit, and you will be given over to the Vile, rival to my Lord._ "

"Captain, just tell... it... why we're here." De Soto said seriously. "I don't like the sound of this... Vile... thing."

Ekdal was at a complete loss, but he played along with this Xiarghreb thing. He wanted whatever was in Sneijder's body to get out. This thing could read his mind though and knew his thoughts. Xiaghreb judged this creature as he thought, his processes were alien to this tiny powerless thing. He had very little potential to play into the great plans that were to unfold. In truth, Xiaghreb needed amusement and planned to smite this vessel in any case regardless of answer.

"We are here to seek a weapon to fight one known as The Prisoner."

Sneijder blinked twice. " _What_?" the voice said, clearly confused.

"We're looking for a weapon to fight an ancient being known..."

" _I know it_." Xiaghreb cut him off. " _The one of us but not of us. How came by you this knowledge? The great Princes have spoken little since the dawn of creation, even my Lord has not considered it since before the War in Heaven._ "

"How do _you_ know what it is?" Ekdal asked, eyebrow raised.

" _You will not ask of us to answer your questions. We are not to be badgered by your kind. I would kill you where you stand_."

"Yet you won't." the Captain said.

" _And my Lord would like nothing better than the continued torment of your kind for His pleasure._ _I must convene with my Lord._ "

The lights from the doe's eyes vanished, leaving dazed and nearly entirely dilated pupils. A breath escaped Sneijder as she dropped to the ground, She hit the ground limp and unresponsive. The security officers without damaged limbs tried to move on her.

"Don't you dare touch her." Ekdal said. "Move her, and we die."

The officers backed off. The bridge crew was still on their feet. Nobody was at their station. Ekdal rubbed the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply, thinking about what was going to happen.

"How do we know she's not dead if we can't examine her?" De Soto asked.

"Augustus." Ekdal said, thinking of something. "Can you isolate respiration rates here on the bridge?"

The hologram of the centurion nodded. "Within 92% certainty."

"Is she dead?" Ekdal asked, not wanting to hear the answer. Hanna Sneijder was a good COM officer and had served on his bridge for two years. She was a kind girl who took her coffee black, liked to hum songs while she wrote reports, and always made sure to say 'good morning' with actual well-wishing when he came on the bridge. Ekdal couldn't stand to think about losing any one of his people.

"She's alive." Augustus declared. "She's breathing, but very little. I've also got a weak heartbeat, maybe twenty beats a minute. I can't do a brainwave scan, but if that thing was telling the truth and her consciousness was... shunted, I suppose, she can't have been feeling good."

Hanna lay there with eyes wide open and with a blank look on her face. She didn't blink, and her eyes did not twitch. She was unconscious and was not dreaming, if she was in there at all.

"How do we know she's not a shell? That her consciousness was destroyed?"

"I don't know." Augustus said. "We're playing with rules very different than our own. Miss Sneijder was just _possessed_ by something."

A great gasp escaped the cervine's mouth. Sneijder was lifted off the ground from some unknown source, floating briefly in the air. Her eyes began to glow once more. A strange aura formed around her that was not there the first time.

" _My Lord has declared you are wanted alive and well. You are now a factor_."

Ekdal stepped forward. "Why doesn't your 'Lord' come here and tell us that himself?"

" _That would not end well for you. You do not possess the vision that He has and His magnificence would destroy your very soul. He is willing to make a proposition._ "

Ekdal had a funny feeling that refusing this deal would mean the annihilation of the ship and crew.

"I'm listening."

" _I knew you would be open to this_." the possessed body of Sneijder said. " _That which you call the Prisoner must be stopped. Chaos bounds the world. Chaos manifests in all reaches of life, and the Prisoner was made manifest through this Chaos. It is born out of chance and uncertainty, which my Lord thrives in. Chaos cannot be superseded. The Prisoner wishes to become a new force of change in Existence. The Lords of Chaos do not contend against this manifestation. It would be an annoyance if it came to power._ "

"An annoyance?" Ekdal said. "That thing is poised to destroy our galaxy and every galaxy like it in existence!"

Hanna's body set down on its feet and began to walk around the bridge. nervous crewmen backed away from her, giving the possessed doe a wide berth. The presence, Xiaghreb, Ekdal guessed, began to touch parts of the ship, looking things over with bright eyes. " _Not this one. It has been claimed. However, over time, the Prisoner may grow stronger in its other realms, and if you found a way here, my Lord believes the Prisoner from these other realities may come here too, only banded together as an army._ "

"How do you know that?" De Soto asked.

" _Why, it told us when the Lords of Chaos destroyed it. My Lord controls this world._ "

"So, why don't your Lords help us destroy the Prisoner outright."

Sneijder's eyes flashed. " _Were it not if my Lord wanted you for His amusement, you would be dead for that utterance and your soul His. You do_ not _make requests of Chaos, you do well to remember that. The next time you blaspheme in His name, He will change His plan for you._ " She pointed a threatening finger towards De Soto, then smiled.

"So, that's it then?" Ekdal said. "Stop the Prisoner so he doesn't wreck your little plaything?"

" _Oh, you make it sound so simple. Even by the standards of the folk of the Anathema, your knowledge is limited, and your minds cannot grasp the minds of the Great Powers. My true form has broken stronger minds._ "

Ekdal suspected that the creature was conning them, that this creature was just making their lives difficult, but then he saw a flash of something horrifying where Hanna once stood, but only for a half-second. It was large, irregularly shaped, and had many eyes and just as many arms.

Ekdal turned pale.

" _And you see._ " Xiaghreb said. " _You're agreement to this task has been determined. No mark will be placed upon you as a servant of destiny. There are those... that think differently to us. What you seek is in the unknown regions of this place - something old and buried._ "

Hanna made her way to the helmsman seat and placed herself down in it.

" _To see the Warp through your diminished eyes._ " she smirked. " _It has a certain beauty to it_."

Something flew across the viewport. It had wings and was colored blood red. Xiaghreb, through Hanna, laughed.

" _You know not where you truly are. This is where dreams are born and where nightmares are sired. Where wonders exist and where terrors are. There is no trace of the Warp in you. You play a dangerous game, Humans._ "

"Why?" De Soto asked.

" _You will see. I know you will agree with us_."

"Not like we have a choice." Ekdal said, turning his back to Xiaghreb and pacing to the holographic table where Augustus was. The AI didn't dare speak, but watched. "Fine. I agree to your demand. We will stop the Prisoner and make things... convenient to you."

" _As I knew you would. The Prisoner cannot be allowed to bring destruction here. My Lord would prefer it if things remained as they are._ _I leave you now. You may have her back._ "

Xiaghreb climbed out of the helmsman's seat. He stood just in front of the command chair with a look of satisfaction and knowing in front on Sneijder's face. " _Any more questions?_ "

"Just one." Ekdal asked, struck by curiosity. "Is the Prisoner of your race? Is it one of many?"

" _I dare not blaspheme against my Lord. I know not how far His gaze goes_."

Xiaghreb spoke no more. Hanna's eyes flashed even brighter than before, and her body dropped to the deck with a dull thud. The computers started to pulse once more, and at once, the hellscape outside of the ship vanished at once, only replaced by deep fields of stars. They were expelled from the Warp at once, like a child let go by a chastising parent. They were free.

* * *

In one of the bunkrooms below, Percy, Johnson, and Jolee simply stared at the ten foot tall humanoid that was in their bunkroom. the creature was clad in thick deep blue armor. Its head was nearly hidden by a massive collar. Two horns curved from its helmet. The only sign of a living creature within was two glowing eyes. It said nothing to them in the near half hour that it had appeared in their room. It had just stared at them, breathing deeply.

"Don't talk to him." Jolee said. "I don't think he's a talker."

It exhaled, making the men flinch.

"By off chance, do you think he's friendly?" Ryan whispered. "Maybe he's lost his way or something?"

Johnson took one look at the massive rifle that was in its hands. It was big and boxy. Part of the magazine wall had been stripped away, and gigantic bullets shone through. Johnson had never seen a gun like that in his life, and the way that this massive thing held it made it seem like he wasn't afraid to use it.

He had suddenly just appeared in their room. There were no weapons to fight him off with, and in any case, it seemed light fighting was out of the question anyway. Then at once, the creature just disappeared. There was no indication of it even transitioning. One second it was there, and the next it was gone.

They all jumped at that. "Jolee, do you feel anything?" Johnson asked.

"Nah." the old man said. "He's gone. Actually, they're all gone."

"What do you mean, they're _all_ gone?" Ryan asked.

"You don't want to know." Bindo responded.

* * *

Sneijder's eyes sprang open and she began to gasp. There was no trace of Xiaghreb in her mind. She looked around the bridge, seeing people staring at her. She began to breathe quicker and quicker before breaking down and starting to cry. She huddled on the floor, not moving except for the heaving of her sobs.

"Hanna." Ekdal said. "Is it you?"

The Mobian made eye contact with Ekdal. Tears were streaming down her face, and her lip quivered. She wasn't sure if Ekdal was real.

"Captain?" She said, after wiping her eyes.

"Hanna, it's alright." Ekdal said, crouching down and extending a hand to her. "On your feet, Lieutenant."

Sneijder grabbed Ekdal's hand and was helped up. She looked around her at the people she knew. They stared at her, not sure how to respond. The doe began to cry again, sobbing into Ekdal's shoulder. She was shivering to the touch.

"What did it do to you?" Ekdal whispered into her ear. "Where did it take you?"

Hanna lost her voice for a moment. Her mouth moved but nothing came out. When she found her voice, all she could say was "Horrible! It was horrible! Everyone was sick and crying for help! Their skins were melting and their voices were...! Then He saw me...!"

"Who's 'He'?" Ekdal asked. "Xiaghreb's Lord?"

"No!" she said.

"The Prisoner?!"

"No!"

"Who was it?!" Ekdal asked.

"Please don't make me remember!" Hanna backed off. "I don't want to remember!" She stumbled. Ekdal caught her by the arm before she fell over.

"Get her to medbay. You're off-duty, Lieutenant."

One of the security officers came up and helped her to the elevator. The petty officer with the wounded wrist was inside the car. He stayed far away from Sneijder despite the assurance that she was indeed back in her own body."

"What happened?" she asked him.

"You." the guard responded. Then the doors closed, and they were gone.

Ekdal looked at all of the bridge crew just standing around and looking at him. "What's everyone slacking around for? Back to your stations!" He commanded. The bridge crew got back to work assessing the damage to the ship and crew. Ekdal just stood with his hands pressed on the holo-table. Augustus looked seriously at the Captain.

"Can you tell us where we are?" Ekdal asked Augustus.

"It will take some time, sir." the AI responded. "I'm picking up some familiar pulsars, but they're in different locations. I believe we are in a version of the Milky Way though. I can detect the Small and Large Magelannic Clouds where they should be, but with stellar drift, we could be anywhere between ten thousand or a hundred thousand years displaced between our galaxy and this one."

"Please just orient us." Ekdal said.

"Aye-aye." Augustus said, disappearing from view as he did his work.

"Captain, Lieutenant Prower has arrived at Engineering." De Soto said. "He's saying that the chanting has stopped, but about fourteen engineers are missing."

Ekdal felt like slamming his fist into the table. He restrained himself, and made his way back towards his chair. The son of a bitch took them. Payment indeed. Ekdal thought of the shivering and crying Hanna and didn't want to contemplate what was going to happen to those poor souls that were just stolen from them. Gregers had a funny feeling they wouldn't be coming back.

TAC reported in. A dark skinned young man said, "Captain, I've got positive readings on the _Bastogne_ and the _Colorado._ "

The two ships were spat back into normal space. They seemed no worse for wear. He wondered if they too had been visited by creatures like Xiaghreb offering a proposition. He wondered if these creatures also exacted payment.

"Open a channel to both ships." he ordered De Soto.

"Open, Captain." she said. "Go ahead."

Ekdal cleared his throat and tried to wipe the image of what he saw out of his mind. For the time being, he was successful. "This is _Ontario_. _Bastogne and Colorado,_ are you reading me?"

" _This is_ Bastogne _._ " the first ship said. " _We're operational._ Ontario _, something just happened to us. Something... bad_."

"I know." Ekdal said. "It happened to us too. _Colorado, are you there_?"

" _Colorado's receiving._ " the second ship said. " _Captain, we need to talk about what just happened. One of our crewmembers was just... I think they were possessed by something!_ "

"We'll talk more about this. For right now, let's get into formation and from there we'll exchange reports. I want you on board _Ontario_ within twenty four hours. As for now, let's exhale. At least we won't have to deal with that anymore."


	8. Chapter 7: A Fair Lady

Chapter 7: A Fair Lady  
December 25, 3235  
EUS-1840, Milky Way Galaxy  
Orion Spur, Unknown System

Within a day of being released by the unknown forces that had captured them, the small task force stuck together to get a hold of their situation. The _Colorado, Bastogne,_ and the _Ontario_ stayed in close formation, only holding about three kilometers from one another. It was a dangerous range, but one that was important for the meeting that was called aboard the _Ontario_. Captain Ekdal was the task force's commanding officer and was therefore it was his ship was where the others were heading. Two small shuttles appeared from the launch bays of the other two support ships. These were small NT-240 shuttles lovingly referred to as "Midges" by the flight crews because of a slight buzzing noise that their small engines made when run at full power. In truth, the NT-240s ran mostly on RCS surfaces scattered all over their hull. Their main engines were used for takeoff from their launch bays. As it was, the two Midges buzzing from the hangars of the _Bastogne_ and the _Colorado_ carried the commanding officers of both the ships. Ekdal was already in the dockmaster's control room looking out over the deck lined with crates, forklifts, and docked Pelican dropships.

Currently, nobody was inside the launch bay except for a few suited up technicians. The bay was depressurized and the shields over the open airlocks were deactivated. Ekdal liked to keep the air pressure lower in the hangar bay at about sixty to seventy percent of an atmosphere. If the deck were to decompress, far less air would evacuate, causing less strain on the oxygen supply. Ekdal hadn't lost a man on his deck because he knew how to position his men away from the doors, closer to the middle of the room, where they currently stood now. Hypothetically, if he dropped the shields and caused a blowout, the air pressure dropping in the space of perhaps one or two seconds wouldn't be enough to pick people up and throw them out of the airlocks. Still, that didn't stop movies back home from perpetuating the ancient myth of the hurricane of air lasting ten seconds or more.

Ekdal was lost in thought as the dockmaster informed him that the shuttles were coming. He nodded and stood with his hands behind his back. Small gripping arms extended from the outside of the _Ontario_ that helped to guide the Midges in. Once inside the gravitational field of the _Ontario_ , the arms held them in place. The shuttles were roughly in the shape of a rounded wedge; a bulbous cockpit protruded from the front. Ekdal could see pilots moving their heads and tapping on controls to shut down the RCS thrusters. The rear of the craft had two stubby wings that were more to radiate heat from the bulky looking engine that poked from the rear of the craft. The main engine was stocky and surrounded by thrusters like flower petals.

"Seal it up." he told the dockmaster as soon as both Midges were clear inside the deck.

"Aye-aye." The CPO answered. He placed a finger on a holographic slide panel and pushed it upwards. The display slowly filled to 100%. If there were air inside of the bay, the noise would have been similar to a loud pop, closer to the sound of a balloon being burst, but with much more volume. Two blue tinged shield doors made of hard light snapped over the openings of the airlocks. On the outside, an outer door cycled shut. Once that was done, the inner door was sealed. The shield door was between both and remained active. When the display glowed green and indicated that a seal had been formed, he moved to a second panel and began to rotate another display key to fill the room with oxygen.

Slowly Ekdal waited, first as a thin mist filled the area. Their view was fogged for a moment before it cleared. Soon the air was at the level he wanted it to be, which was nearly at sea level pressure. It would be returned to the regular levels later.

"Good work." Ekdal said clapping the man's shoulder.

The captain fixed his cap on his head and made his way to the hangar bay. The air was somewhat chilly buy was quickly gaining in temperature. The technicians were still suited up but were now able to shout orders to one another and be heard. The Midges were carefully set down on the deck by the loading arms. The craft had small and stocky landing legs that came out around the cockpit and the engines. Three in total held the relatively feathery weight of the shuttle. With a thump, both the shuttles were set on the deck. Ekdal could see the names of their respective ships painted on their hulls. When the loading door folded down to act as a ramp, two uniformed men strode out of each craft. The commanding officer of the _Bastogne_ was a thin and lanky man who looked like he may have been born in microgravity. His name was Raul Ibanez. Ekdal had never worked with him before, though his record was quite impressive. Ibanez was Cuban, a rare culture off of Earth due to the small population of the Caribbean island. The other was almost stereotypically Slavic looking - a Russian bear of a man named Viacheslav Sergev. If Ibanez was ice, Sergev was fire; the man looked like he was carved from rock. He was shaved bald, and had as much of a Cossack beard as regulations would allow. Gregers knew Sergev for several years as the two served on the same ship, the _Sharpened Spear_ for three years.

Sergev smiled when he saw his old friend, but Ibanez was impassive. Both had been rocked by the event that happened with the envoy of this mysterious 'Lord of Plans'. Both Raul and Viacheslav were missing exactly fourteen crewmen from their compliment, all taken to wherever Xiaghreb had come from.

Ekdal returned the smile and shook the hands of both the men. The pleasantries were a good way of disguising the unease all of the men were feeling. Ekdal ushered them down the hall and out of the shuttle bay.

"This turn of events is disturbing." Sergev said. His clipped but notable accent was cast down the hall. Captain Ekdal could note the way that he rolled his 'r's like any good Russian would. "Gregers, over 40 men have been taken from us. We have no idea where they went and it's very likely they're not coming back."

"I'd say it's certain they're not coming back." Ibanez added. His accent was North American despite coming from Cuba. "Whatever came to visit us said that they took them as 'payment'."

"That's exactly what our visitor told us." Ekdal nodded sadly. "Payment for speaking to us."

"Just imagine what they'll ask for when they really want something from us." Ibanez added.

* * *

The Officer's Mess was a good place to have a meeting as there was very little chance that they would be interrupted by non-important issues. Enlisted personnel were not allowed inside unless specifically cleared by the bridge. The Commander De Soto had the bridge while Ekdal was away. Each crew had a set of representatives with them.

Behind Ekdal was OMEGA such as it was. Sergeant Johnson was flanked by Jolee Bindo, James Reyes, Ryan Percy, and Miles Prower. All of them stood at attention in off-duty uniform. Bindo however had an impressive looking suit on that completely clashed with the military modesty.

Behind Commander Ibanez there was only one woman - a Mobian. She was almost as tall as the Spartans, but she didn't have the muscle mass that they did. She was just a tough as nails ursine with chestnut brown fur and a ponytail. Her eyes were dark brown which may as well almost be black. She was dressed in a Navy uniform. The dark blue T-shirt she wore had a nametag on her right breast. It read 'WILCOX'. She was alone, but she was also the Master-at-Arms for the _Bastogne_. Ekdal could see her massive arms folded behind her back and her legs slightly apart as she stared into space dead ahead. Her discipline was a sight to behold.

Behind Commander Sergev, were two very tall and very muscular men. They were quiet and barely moved. When they did move though, each motion caused muscles all over their bodies to shift and flex. Even blinking caused small bulges to appear on their temples. They didn't wear their battle armor, but Johnson knew without a doubt that he was looking at a pair of Spartans. The Spartans were probably assigned as a sort of shock trooper compliment. Johnson wondered if there were any more on the _Bastogne_ or the _Colorado._

Water was served for the men and they silently accepted it. Ekdal glanced at his watch and sighed. They had to get this over sooner or later.

"Gentlemen... and lady..." he nodded to Wilcox. "I want to thank you for coming on short notice. Things have... for lack of a better term, gone wrong."

Ibanez chortled. "That's an understatement."

Ekdal continued. "We have no contact with Weyland's people, nor the UNSC. The plan, as we all know, was to make contact as Weyland's people were supposed to set up a beacon for further communications with Earth. However, given what just happened to us, there's a good chance that either they never made it, or they did make it without... that... he gestured to somewhere beyond the hull... and are so far away from us, that we are unable to find them. Augustus?" Ekdal called.

The AI visualized in the center of the table. The centurion had his helmet tucked under his right arm while his left had his hand on his gladius. His face had some hint of stubble on it and a look of concern crossed his brow.

" _Salve_ , Captain." he nodded.

"Have you had any luck in pinning our location down?"

"I have." he nodded. "As I stated before, we within 96% in the Orion Arm. I have to report that there are some... discrepancies in stellar location. Regardless, I've found a few pulsars that I'm using to make a rough map of the area."

The image of the centurion disappeared and in its place was a growing web of stars. Red, blue, white, and golden dots appeared all linked to one another. A few neutron stars inside that mess were blinking at varying speeds, which allowed Augustus to make a three-dimensional map of the close area. After a certain point though, the dots thinned out, eventually there was nothing but simulated gas clouds. There was no idea if the overlaid map of the Milky Way was even accurate - it was the only galaxy on file.

"What discrepancies?" Ekdal asked, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.

"There's some sort of energy that I can't exactly quantify. It's just seeping through... existence."

"That doesn't surprise me anymore." Sergev said. "Not after that hell we just went through. Gregrers, we're forty two men down."

"I know." Ekdal said sighing. He rubbed his eyes as if he were tired. Mentally he was strained nearly to the point of breaking.

"Captain, we need to reach safety to recuperate from our losses." Commander Ibanez added. "We need to send a signal to FLEETCOM."

"That's not possible from where we are." Ekdal said. "We have no means of communication with Earth. If we ended up where we were supposed to, Weyland's people would have had a beacon we could use to get a message back home."

"Speaking of which..." Sergev said, addressing now Augustus. "You wouldn't happen to have found any outpost of Jeremy Weyland's company?"

"No." Augustus shook his head. "I'm going through every corporate frequency, and some of the encoded ones I can find. There's nothing being broadcast out there on any frequency... or language I can find."

"So we're alone and lost." Sergev said, "and from the looks of things in interstellar space. Greg, this is not the place we want to be if we want to regroup and get our bearings."

Ekdal knew this and tried his hardest to get a grasp of the situation himself. He had no options. "I know." he whispered.

* * *

Three hours later, Ekdal re-entered the bridge looking absolutely sullen. The meeting with the two commanders went absolutely nowhere. The first hour had simply been recapping their situation and confirming that the ships were still operational. The second hour was the horrible task of going over crew rosters and confirming who was now considered missing in action. Over forty men and women had been stolen from them and several crewmembers were suffering from some degree of mental trauma.

Miles recounted his encounter with what he could only describe as a monster. It had roared right at him, but it hadn't attacked him. Prower had been too scared to move, too scared to even attack. What he saw jut seemed impossible. As he followed Ekdal onto the bridge, he wondered to himself as to whether or not the crewmembers lying in the medical bay were even sane of mind anymore. He found himself downright miserable as they went down the list ticking off the crewmembers had been taken by those monsters. It made him more than upset: it made him angry. He had clenched his hands into fists behind his back during that second hour.

Sergev and Ibanez weren't far behind. They were talking to themselves over what happened in the third hour. Sergev was still fuming over the whole ordeal. Ibanez was quite stonefaced, but Ekdal knew a little better than to take the man's steeled expression as actual calm. Ekdal himself walked over to the command chair that he vacated hours earlier. He sat down and just stared straight ahead out of the viewport into the yawning void. He mulled over everything in his head. What could he do? Cut off from command, every movement was a risk. Every single decision could lead to the destruction of the group.

Among the stars, something caught his eye. A single star among the stars seemed to be different, and it was growing at an alarming rate.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." Ekdal said. "DeSoto, how's our shield strength?"

"Full power, Captain." The XO said. "Why...?" her eyes went up to the viewscreen. "What's that?"

"Nothing good!" Ekdal said. "Gentlemen, I'd recommend you brace yourselves!"

Sergev nodded and found an empty seat close to Tactical - the officer was off duty there. Sergev also clipped the safety webbing over his shoulders - just in case.

Ibanez however stood behind Ekdal's command chair and just held himself there, finding some nooks or grips on the chair itself just in case they needed to pull some Gs that went above what the system could compensate for.

That dot out in the starfield grew with terrifying quickness. The point of light had become a craft.

"Augustus..." DeSoto began with her jaw loosening. "...what is that?"

The Centurion folded his arms, eyes set. "That's a ship."

"Can you identify it?"

"No." he said quickly, shaking his head. "Doesn't match any known profile on record, nor any ship encountered by Wolfhound teams on expeditions."

That meant that it was something new.

The ship was growing larger, but it was pegged at being several hundred kilometers away and closing fast. Bright jets glowed at the bow of the ship. It wasn't going past them. It was slowing down.

Another crewman had taken Sneijder's place at her console, clearly uncomfortable staying in the same location that several hours ago, she had been possessed by a monster. "Captain, the _Bastogne_ 's starting to panic."

"You will tell Lieutenant Kildare to keep that ship where it is, or I'm going to kill him myself!" Ibanez shouted at the ensign.

"Aye... aye sir." The man nodded.

The _Bastogne_ didn't get very far before attitude thrusters placed it back in formation. No doubt Commander Ibanez's threat had come through loud and clear. Despite the man's thinness and apparent calmness on the outside, the crew of that ship were convinced that Ibanez could scream in the vacuum of space, and someone would hear him.

The object approaching all three of the ships, the _Bastogne_ included, was almost shaped like a bullet with the bottom shorn off. On the top, a small command tower of some sort was visible. It was painted blood red with the exception of figure that was adorned to the front of the ship. It wasn't clear at first, but as soon as the light of the stars allowed for better viewing, the thing on the prow ended up being a figure of an eagle, or some sort of bird. When the massive craft came closer, it was clear from the gleam that the bird was made of gold. Perhaps even solid gold.

The thought of that even being remotely true struck Ekdal as odd. Who in their right mind would mount such a heavy weight to the front of a ship? The sheer weight of it alone would shift the center of mass of the ship away from where it needed to be. In addition, the eagle looked almost like it was polished - lights from the ship itself gleamed off of the details in the statue. Ekdal also noted that the laws of physics may be different in this universe and the rules as they knew them probably didn't apply.

Miles on the other hand was impressed by the sheer size of the thing. As it was approaching, he expected it to only be about as big as the frigate itself, maybe around five hundred meters. It was a fair size for how it was shaped, so Miles assumed it wasn't all that impressive or massive. Then it got closer, and then it began to come about. He walked a little closer, stepping past the command chair and towards the viewports. It was massive. The bullet shaped starship was studded with antennae, massive guns, and what appeared to be spires. Windows all over the craft were spaced evenly along the hull with their tops curving towards a point, so that even the windows closer resembled bullets in shape than what was on the UNSC frigates. Studded along the hull at regular intervals, very plain to see and very polished, were Human skulls. The aesthetics of the craft were rather shocking to Miles, who found himself saying, "It looks like a church!"

"What?" the helmsman to his right said. Prower looked down at the man. He was young; younger than he was. With the somewhat greasy skin, Tails guessed that he was 18 or 19, meaning that this was probably his first assignment. A single golden bar of ensign adorned his shoulders. The nametag on his chest read 'Rossi'.

"I said it looks like it's a church." Miles repeated. "Look at it. There are steeples, there are... buttresses and... are those... gargoyles?"

"Who puts gargoyles on a starship?" Rossi asked.

"The same people who put twenty meter long skulls on them."

Ekdal ordered to have the shields raised, but he also said not to make any sudden movements. "Keep engines on standby, but match our velocity with that ship."

"Aye, sir." Rossi said and keyed in the necessary commands. He then relayed the command to the _Bastogne_ and the _Colorado_.

The gigantic vessel was taller, longer across the beam, and from stem to stern must have actually been somewhere around nearly five kilometers. The size was absolutely astounding. Miles was in awe from the sheer mass of the vessel and he wondered if it was actually a warship, a trading vessel, or something else entirely. It didn't match his idea of a science vessel, but then again, he wasn't exactly sure about the universe he was in.

Nobody said a word as the vessel made no motion, no move of its weaponry, or anything else that could betray what the crew was thinking of. The ship also had golden lettering across its body, though it was written in a language that seemed vaguely familiar. All that they could discern was the name of the vessel streaked across the hull - 'FAERLADI', written in what seemed to be gold.

"Augustus." Ekdal ordered. "Can you determine if any signals are coming through?"

The AI thought about it. "Some, though they're in a somewhat different format than what I thought. There are signals coming from them, but I think I may have to tweak the ship's sensors to better catch them. Even then, I can't guarantee that you'll get everything."

"Please do it." Ekdal said, getting up and walking to Prower. "Gentlemen," he addressed the other two commanding officers. "I suggest you stay on the _Ontario_ so as not to provoke a response from our new friend." he threw his head towards the massive ship. "In the meantime, if you have any suggestions, please share them."

"They may destroy us, you know." Ibanez said coolly. "May be too curious and may just blast us out of the sky."

"I partially agree with Raul." Sergev said. "I agree that we must take caution, but we have to indicate that we are no threat to them. I suggest we power down weapons."

That made Miles raise an eyebrow, but he kept his mouth shut. Assuming that the giant ship had already scanned them and determined how their power was being routed, lowering weapons would show that they meant no harm and would submit to whatever they would want. On the other hand, powering down weapons would make them an easy target. If this ship had nothing better to do, it would destroy them.

The commanders began to debate among themselves and wondered just what the course of action would be. Miles watched them, then turned back to the ship. He had suddenly gained a headache of some sort. Pain began to sprout behind his right eye and he started blinking. For a second he was wondering if he had become faint. He gripped the back of the helmsman's chair. Rossi said something, but Miles didn't hear what he said.

Then he saw something. For a second he was afraid whatever had attacked them before was coming back. Maybe he was being possessed. Maybe he was being brought to whatever Hanna Sneijder saw. His heart began to beat, but it wasn't an unspeakable evil, but seemed to be humanoid.

"What..." he said before the image flashed again. A humanoid, for sure. Someone hooded. Miles clearly saw it the third time it flashed.

"Captain!" he said before. "Captain, I see something!"

Ekdal, Ibanez, and Sergev stopped speaking and all of them looked towards Miles. "What do you mean?" Ekdal said, suddenly stressed.

"I see a person. He or she's wearing some sort of hood. It's definitely a person!"

Ekdal didn't know what to make from this. It made very little sense what had happened over the last few hours and the fact that Prower was now apparently hallucinating made his brow furrow even deeper. He cursed in his head, but said, "What do you think it means?"

Miles was about to respond when another image flashed into his head. A person speaking into another person's ear. This image held, and the young Mobian was quick to catch its meaning.

"They're trying to talk to us!"

"Excuse me?" DeSoto said. "What do you mean?"

"I just saw someone whispering into someone's ears!" he smiled at the fact that he had successfully received what he believed was some sort of telepathic speech. Despite the danger of the situation, he was now giddy with excitement. The ship was speaking to them. His ears perked and he said to the COM offider, "Open all channels and all frequencies! Once you get a hit, strengthen that signal!"

The man nodded and began to broaden the spectrum of signals. A few minutes later, he said, "I've got one! I'm boosting that freq!"

"Patch it in to me!" Ekdal said slipping back into the command chair. He had no idea what was going to be on the other side of this conversation, but he hazarded to guess that it just may be Human. He prepared himself though to see his opposite number. However, the screen was filled with static, the cosmic noise of the universe. He could see a figure shrouded there. He guessed it was a head. Something distorted it though. "Can you boost that signal?"

The man at the COM panel thought to himself how he could possibly boost a signal that had a signal extension that matched nothing the UNSC had. He wondered how he could even clear it up. However, he said he would try and got to work running routine scrubbing on the signal. The computers looked at the footage and tried their best to guess what the missing pixels were. Augustus aided but to a small extent.

A noise came from the snow. However it was very distorted. Before Ekdal could ask, the officer got to work trying to clean the audio.

Ekdal spoke. "This is Captain Gregers Ekdal of the UNSC _Ontario_. I come in peace, and as a friend."

Ekdal knew that there was no guarantee that whoever was over there would speak English, let alone understand him. Indeed, the figure responded. He caught a few words that were intelligible: " _Xhuhet gat nin..._ " before static crossed back in. Then it came back in. " _Traadjer hui-hao njem_..."

Ekdal tilted his head forward subconsciously, as if to try and make some sense of the words that came through. He could find no meaning in them. It was obviously alien.

"Augustus?" Ekdal asked at once.

The AI said over the COM, " _I'm going to try and monitor some of their communications and see if I can construct_ _a basic lexicon. No dictionaries, mind you, just some simple words if I can._ "

Miles needed to do something while he was up here. He hadn't seen anymore images, so he decided to try and send one out. He thought of an image that could be used to help them. He thought hard about a handshake, a hug, two people speaking. The image came easily in his mind, and he felt as if it had been pulled from him almost. The concentration to keep a simple thought wasn't beyond him, but he felt as if he actually used serious energy from the ordeal.

All of these images had the underlying concept of friendship. We mean no harm. Pictography was obviously a love of these people. Perhaps they only used speech when speaking directly to foreigners. He wasn't quite sure how to send this message, so he just let it sit in his mind. He concentrated as much as he could and hoped that whatever was over there could see what he was doing. He thought on it so much that the rest of the world blanked out. He could hear nothing but the thoughts in his own head. He had no idea what he was doing and was not sure if anybody was receiving his response. Then he waited. Sound began to filter back into his mind. He decided to speak up.

"Captain?"

Ekdal stopped what he was doing at once, which was speaking to Commander Ibanez. "Prower?"

"Captain, I think I should tell you I've been in communication with... someone just now."

Ekdal cocked his head, not quite understanding what he meant. "In communication?"

"I think they communicate through telepathy."

"You mean they can read minds." Sergev clarified.

"Yes. I think so." Miles nodded. "I've got flashes of images. People talking, a robed figure; pictures. I think this may be their main means of talking to us. They send pictures to people and they interpret them, so they sidestep a language barrier!"

"How are you able to do that?" Ibanez asked. It was a fair question that Miles couldn't answer, so he just said what he felt made sense.

"I don't know. I do know a few years ago I had the ability to be trained as a Jedi in EUS-39. Maybe my mind's just built for telepathy, something we just don't have back home. I don't feel the Force. Not really. I just feel... whatever this is."

The door opened behind them, sliding apart with a dull hiss. Jolee strode onto the bridge with brow furrowed.

"Tell me you felt that." he said slowly to Miles, who nodded quickly.

"Did you see it?"

"Only for the briefest of seconds." the old man said. "Images." he declared to the crew. "Someone's communicating with us!"

"We know that now." Ekdal said. "Young Mr. Prower here has apparently extended a hand. We're not sure how that will be received.

Jolee and Miles felt another image pass into their minds. It was the same image that the young Mobian had sent out - shaking hands. The message had been received. It was a sign of peace, or at the very least understanding between one another.

"They got the message." Miles declared. "They understand we only want to communicate."

Ekdal turned back to the console where the vaguely Humanoid shape was. "Peace!" he said. "We come in peace!", he repeated. Ekdal bit his lip and then decided to try different languages. " _Pace! Paz! Pax!_ "

" _Pax_!" the voice responded. "Pax!" it repeated, and then vanished.

"What did you say?" Sergev asked. "What language was that last one?"

Ekdal shrugged. "Latin. I don't know why I said it but..."

" _Pax Imperialis in domnus astrum e iudebat_?"

That came through clear. They could work with this it seemed.

"Augustus!" Ekdal called.

The AI appeared over the holotable. "Captain?"

"Was that Latin?"

The holographic Centurion pursed his lips as he thought about it. "Not quite." He shook his head. "Some of the lexicon is similar, and the syntax is out of position, but there's clearly some resemblance. I know Latin; I mean..." he gestured all over the Roman plate armor he was wearing. Augustus pointed his finger towards the gigantic ship in a knowing gesture.

"I think... I think I may be able to find some common ground. I can translate your words into Latin. Would you prefer Classical or Modern rendition?"

Ekdal just stared at the AI.

"Classic it is then." Augustus bobbed his eyebrows. "Speak away, Captain."

"We are peaceful." he said to the ship.

The message that came from the _Ontario_ was " _Ultinam nihil mali_."

"Message sent and received, Captain. I will do my best to... translate... whatever that is coming over."

It didn't take long. Five seconds later, the figure spoke, " _Pax donalis, astrumala noidem. Voc tua nome idemificado._ "

"I caught the last bit." Augustus said. "They just want our names."

"We are the _Ontario, Bastogne_ , and _Colorado._ " Ekdal announced. "I am Captain Gregers Ekdal. These men are Commanders Ibanez, and Sergev."

" _Trafemdactus_."

"No idea what that means." Augustus said. Best guess is he is giving us a statement of intent. It's not a threat... otherwise we'd be dead. I'd advise playing along with it. Whatever he wants to do, let him do it."

"Understood." Ekdal said.

"The figure on the screen nodded, and then the image went out."

There was a bit of silence on the bridge before Ibanez started a slow clap.

"Well done. First contact was successful and didn't end up with us being blown out of the sky."

Ekdal folded his arms and walked back to the command chair. "There's a serious language barrier problem. Some sort of language I don't know about and some bastardized form of Latin." He gestured to Augustus. "Can you monitor their communications and maybe build some sort of dictionary for translation? We can update our Interpreters to allow for some sort of understanding?"

"I've been monitoring their communications since you first told me to translate. I've dedicated 12 percent of my runtime to help build a lexicon. So far I'm at maybe 50 words. I am updating our language software on the fly."

"How are you going about doing that?" Jolee asked, curious as an old man was.

"Listening to see how people react to one another. There is definitely Latin basing to it, which means that most likely these people are Human... though I'm not quite sure they are what we would consider standard. Some of their words are... odd."

"Describe odd." Miles asked.

"Well, of those fifty words I've translated, seventy now, over half of them have been repeated over and over again, ritualistically. 'Praise', 'Piety', at least three synonyms for 'worship', and even... binary code. That's fluent to me though..."

"Why didn't you translate the binary?"

"You didn't ask. I can get you a lexicon far quicker than that, but I doubt it will be any good to you when speaking to these people. I have no idea who runs the ship, but the translation makes multiple references to the 'indebted' crew."

"They're slaves?" Miles asked.

"It seems that way. Just translated a new word, a compound word. Machine-spirit."

"What does that mean?" Rossi asked.

"Afraid I couldn't tell you, however, based on what I'm picking up, these prayer words seem to be correlated to the appearance with these 'machine-spirits' and the bursts of binary are also in close frequency, overlapping these other words. Yes, I can confirm that that the binary indicates that prayers are being said _to_ the machines."

"They worship the machines?"

"That's what I'm gathering." The Centurion shrugged.

Ekdal couldn't believe his luck. To see these people so in touch with technology to the point where they worshipped it would be of incredible use in this mission.

"What about that first language he used? Any luck?"

"No." Augustus said. "There are so many... I guess I want to say _dialects_ in use on that ship that it would be useless to try and translate that. This second language is by far the easier. I would assume that the second language perhaps started as Latin and diverged over time."

Miles made his way back to the viewport, taking all of this in. That was odd. For a civilization that appeared to worship technology in such a way, it didn't seem that their vessel reflected this. Stained glass windows seemed awfully stupid to have on a starship, yet there it was. These people also seemed to like their skulls. The closer he analyzed the ship, the more he saw.

"Augustus, do they know you're scanning them?" Ibanez asked.

"Not really." The AI admitted. "Uh, I may want to stay out of this."

"What do you mean? You're our translator!" Sergev added.

"Trust me on this one, put me on a passive mode. They're suspicious of us. I'll explain more later. I'll keep updating your Interpreters! Just do it!"

Ekdal didn't waste any time. He assumed Augstus translated something very uncomforting and decided to butt out. In passive mode, Augustus would still be active, though his systems would be restricted to being nothing more than computer systems. In here, he would be safe. Ekdal was right. He had translated something that made him worry for his life. As it turned out, there was a slightly different translation for the term 'A.I.'

Ekdal keyed in the command override, and Augustus faded. A text message on the screen confirmed he was still kicking.

Jolee was musing on the events as they unfolded. "You think they're going to let us go?"

"Not a chance." Miles responded. "We're already too strange to pass up. It's probably why they haven't destroyed us yet either."

Another image flash. A hooded figure walking through an arch.

"What do you think that means?" Bindo asked. "Walking through an arch?"

"Or a door." the Mobian added. "Our door?"

"They're coming." Bindo nodded.

Their interpretation was correct. A few minutes after this realization, a small star departed from the bullet-shaped ship. Miles informed Ekdal of what he saw. The Captain lowered the doors on the landing bay, as a show of good faith. The craft that approached the _Ontario_ was somewhat wedge-shaped craft. The wings appeared like that of a bird, with intricate designs of what appeared to be feathers carved into the metal. It was fast, making its way towards the frigate with great speed for its size. When it appeared that the vessel was going to slam into the ship, it slowed with bright jets blaring from its front.

Ekdal hoped that it would be able to fit inside the bay. He was in luck though, the wingspan was well within acceptable limits. The eagle-like craft hovered through the entrance. He was well on his way to the flight deck by the time the ship touched down. He had a small Interpreter hooked over his ear which was constantly being fed new words that Augustus continued to supply. The vocabulary was still quite small, a little over a hundred and fifty words.

It was fortunate this turned out the way it did. Without such a large crew on that ship, it would have taken much longer to learn even a single word that was used here. Ekdal, flanked by Ibanez and Sergev, entered the bay. The slightly chilled air kept them on their toes. The ship was safely tucked on his deck. A small group of technicians stood by, interested by this new ship that they have never seen before.

The back of the craft hissed open. Ekdal stood to, greeting his guest. A man strode out. He was most definitely Human. He was tall, strong with broad shoulders, and was lavishly dressed to the point where it seemed to be ridiculous. He wore a long coat that stretched to his knees, had wide epaulettes, wore a tailored an gleaming jacket underneath his coat, and a large wide-brimmed violet hat sat on his head. A cyan feather extended from its band. On each hand was no less than three rings, each studded with a different jewel, and on his coat was a collection of trinkets, medals, strange wax-stamps with what looked like parchment draping from it, and at the center of it all was a golden skull with arms radiating from it like a star. He was smug. A thin smile crossed his face. He radiated excellence, wealth, and charisma. His beard was well trimmed along with his eyebrows, and, and there wasn't a blemish on his face.

Ekdal saluted his guest. The other commanders, along with the technicians followed suit. The guest laughed. Gregers wasn't sure if it was in mirth or in mocking.

The second thing to emerge from the ship set Ekdal's primal instincts on edge. A hooded figure came out, but in the place of where its face was, two wide lenses were where its eyes would be. It had a slight gait to it. From its uncanny hands hung what Ekdal was sure was an incense burner. Smoke wafted from the brass device as it made a series of whistles with some warbling evidence of what just may have been Human speech. Ekdal wasn't sure what to make of this hooded creature. It was clear that the men were put off by it.

However, he averted his eyes back to the brilliantly dressed man.

He wished to say Welcome. The Interpreter volunteered a suggestion.

"Welcome to my ship!" he said, his mouth making the shapes necessary to replicate the language.

The hooded figure's head cocked ever so slightly. Wires shifted on its face.

"You speak proper Gothic now!" The man's translation said.

"Our systems were not working well." Ekdal explained. "I am Captain Ekdal."

The man smiled with perfect teeth. "You may address me a the Lord Rogue Trader, Jean-Jacques Departeu, vaciliare Imperial."

Ekdal noted the translation was not perfect. Augustus was still working. It would likely fix these problems as time went on. "Thank you for coming to rescue us, my lord." Ekdal said, using the insisted terminology. "We would not have lasted long on our own."

"You thank me yet too early, Captain." this man who called himself Rogue Trader said, "Your arrival is rather interesting. You interest me." He pulled back part of his coat. On his belt was a rather large handgun, far larger than any weapon that this crew wore on their waist. "Your ship interests me, your crew interests me, and your... technology particularly interests me."

He plucked the weapon from his belt and leveled it at Ekdal's face. This man had that smug smile even now. He controlled the action now. Ekdal had his hands in front of his face.

"Alright. Alright. You're in control. What would you demand of us, my lord?"

Departeu flicked the weapon's safety.

"You will begin explaining things. _N_ _ow._ "


	9. Chapter 8: Descent

Chapter 8: Descent  
December 26th, 3241, 1151 hours  
Requiem, Epoloch System  
Location Unknown

"Cultist Down!" Kim shouted as she saw one of the heavily augmented soldiers fell. She moved forward, keeping to the cover of the Forerunner tunnel they had moved into.

The Spartans led the ONI combat personnel who wisely stuck more to the protection of the floating metal structures. They were fearless, but were very much aware of how much danger the Dark Legion could cause them.

These forces had been the first contact that they had found. Thousands of cultists, many of them Human surprisingly enough. John had read the intel reports that had been supplied before the mission actually began. A fair bulk of these men and women had once been prisoners recruited into this mysterious group that had been calling themselves the Dark Legion. Responsible for several attacks on civilian sectors, they would be willing to kill themselves and others to further their own goals. John had no idea what that was though, but he was fairly certain that it involved the Didact in some way. That could not come to pass.

Cortana could give them coordinates that coincided with true north on the planet, but there was no region, no country, no routes or anything that could be determined. The inside of this world was artificial, which meant everything was just a bit too perfect. Just enough to determine that something wasn't right.

Though none of this was in the Spartan's mind as he charged into a Dark Legion soldier, knocking him down the hallway with broken augmented limb sputtering into the sky.

He took cover at the nearest pillar. "Armand, keep them pinned there. Juliet-22, pass on my right and take the kill shot!

"Wilco!" An ONI combat operative with black armor nodded. He waved for his unit to follow him to the right of the Spartan. The leader, a Commander by the name of Dmitri Orlav, otherwise known as 'Dima' to his friends, was noted for his pitch black cap that he wore with the ONI logo stitched across its front. He wore a golden pair of what appeared to be sunglasses that operated no differently than a VISR.

Juliet-22 was effectively invisible with the Spartans pinning down the Dark Legion cultists. The ONI agents hid themselves by using Forerunner architecture to mask their approach. The hallway in general was about twenty meters across split into three walkways. Each third of the hallway had regular support pillars and Forerunner accents of floating metal. Highlights cast glows on the hallway. It was important then that shadows wouldn't be cast on the walls.

Dima was a combat veteran and a field agent. Fighting wasn't unknown to him, but these freaks were different. His threat detection spotted three of them over the wall, outlined in red. Each was roughly in the shape of the humanoid creature, but parts of the body were missing or muted, courtesy of their augmentations.

"Get behind them." Dima ordered his men. Two agents slipped around the accent, guns raised. Their plasma rifles unfolded as safeties were released. The targets never saw them coming... but then they turned, somehow becoming aware of their presence. The cultists were vaguely Human. Their faces were covered with invasive augmentations - camera bundles in their eyes, rebreathers, and what almost seemed like headsets permanently attached to their heads. It was foolish to think that they wouldn't have their own heads up displays or threat detectors. Dima had to silently laugh. They were on even ground.

The ONI agents fired. The plasma rifles cracked as superheated energy heated their air. white hot bolts crossed the room, slamming into the closest of the cyborgs. They screeched as their bodies were scorched instantly by the shots. Their wounds cauterized from the extreme heat. Not a drop of augmented blood fell on the alien floors from the agents' weapons.

Dima ordered more of his men to pocket them in while the Spartans continued to fire from the opposite end of the hallway. Another cultist was caught by a bullet from the armored soldiers, this time a woman. She said nothing as her head jerked back, blood and brain matter splattering on the wall. Three cultists down in the space of thirty seconds.

John was about to call the all clear and order them to move up before he saw a glint further down the hallway. Thinking immediately that it was the refraction of a scope, he took a knee and sent three rounds downrange. The light moved.

"We're not safe yet. Juliet-22 keep to cover, move towards the next room!"

"Aye-aye!" Dima said. "Split up! Half on this wall, half on the other!"

The ONI troops did as their commander ordered. Dima stuck on the right-side wall., pressed as close as his armor would allow. He could feel only the slightest resistance from his energy shield. All of his men had some sort of protection. They could deflect some small and medium caliber rounds, but something big from a sniper rifle would tear through, and a large output plasma round would short out the emitters quickly. The flak armor could protect them on their own, or so they were told.

One of the snipers down the hall tried his luck, sending a shot downrange. The bullet ricocheted off one of the pillars. whining as it lost its energy on impact. A clean miss. He must have been trying to keep them in cover. It wasn't working.

"Armand, go!" John said, pointing down the hall.

The bulkier Spartan started to sprint ahead, keeping his eyes locked on the area where he thought the sniper was. He could see a little bit into the next room, a cavernous space with many raised platforms. The entire facility was situated into a mountain which looked rather small from outside. Nothing on this planet was as it seemed.

The sniper took another shot, this time he aimed to take Armand down. The bullet missed him, but was still close enough to knock him off balance from the air pressure shift. That bullet impacted further down the hall past the huddled UNSC forces.

Armand was quick on his feet though.

"Hey, try not to get your head blown off!" Kim said.

"Trying my hardest!" He plucked the handgun from his holster and on the run, fired several shots towards where the sniper was. He saw a flash of blood in the air.

"He's hit! Move!" Armand called back to the men.

"Juliet-22, make your way into that room, but keep your eyes open! Weapons up!" John commanded.

Dima nodded. "Come on!" he said, leading the charge. "Hit them like an avalanche!"

The combat agents fired suppressing rounds at the sniper, keeping him pinned. The Legionnaire couldn't do anything but duck down and keep his head below the banister. For the moment, their advance was good. The ONI troops, now overtaken by Armand, entered the large chamber.

It was a massive room three football fields across studded with power pylons that shot energy to each other and up the tall interior. Dima stole a glance upwards. He couldn't see the roof. The edges of the walls just closed in to a point. Ramps led up the center of the room with this platform jutting up and above it. The sniper had been here earlier, but they couldn't see what he had been protecting.

The sniper returned, this time flanked by two other riflemen. These Mobians were not wearing robes, so the extent of their augmentations could be seen. The Legionnaires had both their arms replaced by cybernetic claws. Their eyes had ocular implants placed into their skulls with two snaking power cables wrapping over their heads to join a backpack that no doubt contained their power supplies. The guns in their hands were stolen BT-42 battle rifles, standard issue for police forces in South American nations. Dima could see the magazines jutting out at a ninety degree angle from the body of the gun, just before the muzzle flash sprouted from each gun.

Armand plucked his handgun from his holster and fired two shots at the gunman on his left. The first bullet slashed through one of his arms, causing him to drop the gun, causing a round to ricochet off the floor, off the banister, and back into his own chest, causing blood to splash in the air. The third round went through where his heart would have been. The rifleman stood in momentary shock before falling out of sight.

The gunman on Armand's right though hadn't noticed his comrade fall. He lined up a shot and fired at one of the ONI personnel, piercing through his weakened shield and leg armor, severing an artery. The ONI agent fell screaming to the floor, clutching his wound. Another agent fell back to assist him - Dima's second in command, distracted by Human nature. The Legionnaire smiled crookedly. One of them had had taken the bait. He gazed through the sight again, and fired a single bullet straight through the back of the soldier's head, piercing the energy field and cracking his skull forward. The limp body fell on the man who had been shot through the leg.

Armand head the cry over his COMs and two lights winked on his HUD. The vitals of Lieutenant Junior Grade Val Portsmouth started to blink rapid yellow, while the light of Lieutenant Commander Jorge Ruiz snapped to black. Two men down, with another man likely to die if they didn't move fast.

"Chief! Man down!" he said over the group COMs.

John silently began sprinting towards where Portsmouth fell. A few rounds pinged off his armor, bringing his shields down to twenty percent strength. The suit started to blare a shrill alarm, warning him of the danger. Portsmouth clutched at the wound up ahead, pushing the body of Ruiz off him. He didn't even see the Spartan pick him up, but within seconds, he was behind a portion of the room out of the line of sight. He placed the Lieutenant down on the ground, looking up to see Kim jogging into the battlefield, lunging ahead with her suit jets. His entire team had entered the room and were pushing on the top of this ramp.

He scanned the wound with his helmet. The bullet had passed straight through, cutting part of the femoral. It wasn't a complete break though, but it was extremely serious. If he didn't act fast, Portsmouth would bleed out. Already there was a trail of blood leading to where he had placed the ONI agent down. He removed Portsmouth's helmet. The shaved remains of his blond hair seemed to glisten in the sweat that covered his skin. His blue eyes were dilated, unfocused, and his mouth was twisted in pain.

"Hold still." he commanded the man. John reached into a pouch on his belt and retrieved a biofoam canister, injecting it into the wound. He could see the yellow-green material clot around the wound. Blood stopped pulsing either because the biofoam had stopped the bleeding, or there was nothing left to bleed. John silently hoped it was the former.

Before he could proceed, he deflected another round with his shield. The Spartan whipped around, catching sight of a Legionnaire up above. The canine smiled wickedly and held a large handgun. That bullet had removed a third of his shield. It was powerful; modified in some way. The Spartan was forced to leave Portsmouth on the floor. He compressed, and then leaped into the air, using his thrusters to give him extra height. The time it took for him to grab the ledge bring himself over, and land a blow from his fist to snap the Legionnaire's neck was about two seconds. The cyborg's body whipped around, but not before parts of it started to glow in several places. John's instincts immediately transmitted 'explosive' to his brain, and he sprinted down the ramp at the opposite side of the ledge.

The explosive was much larger than what was thought from the size of the Mobian. Fragments of metal from the armor, possibly double designed to act as fragments like a grenade, hit his back, collapsing his shield. Though none of the metal shards had pierced his armor, the concussive force made his head hurt somewhat. His armor blasted a warning tone. He was unprotected and needed to keep to cover. The pulsing alarm was in his head as he pressed against the wall, hoping that no more marksmen were waiting to take a shot at him. The danger passed. His shield refilled slowly. He could feel himself pushed ever so slightly from the wall by the barrier. He had to leave Portsmouth for now. His display still showed his light blinking quickly, but he was still alive.

Dima and Juliet-22, protected by Armand and Kim, made their way to the top of the ramp. The sniper had been taken by Armand, who had climbed the ledge, and thrown down the hallway they had just come. The sniper had actually survived the throw, but Armand had fixed this by shooting the Legionnaire twice in the torso. The Legionnaire had then exploded as its last ditch systems activated.

The Humans couldn't understand the level of cruelty that the Legion would put on its own members. Some of the fighters had apparently been conscripted by Julian Kintobor upon his escape from the High Moon Prison almost exactly one year prior. Those men had been sentenced to life imprisonment for murder, rape, crimes against Humanity, and various levels of scum that warranted being locked away forever in the worst possible place. However, there were Mobians within the ranks of the Legions. Tens of thousands of them at least. It was because of this that Kim had vowed to eliminate every single one of them. She had no idea what had convinced them to turn around and pledge allegiance to a man who had hated their society.

But something hadn't added up. Robotnik may have been insane, but he was not capable of the level of absolute insanity that she had seen in the way these men and women had been twisted. While Kintobor believed in the 'clean' concept of Roboticization, these people had been savaged, which had given the UEG the impression that there was another person in charge; calling the shots. Kim reasoned that this person was a Mobian who could turn her own people to their cause. She wondered at the thought. Overlander and Mobian working together to control everything. It was a strange contrast to the union between Mobians and Humanity.

The Legionnaires had been guarding what looked like some sort of floating frame. There was a small encampment that was set up. Somehow, the Legionnaires were able to get a truck up here. The vehicle was Human made, a Mainz-Trager 870 Superhauler - made for heavy hauling. Several tents were hastily built, and weapons crates were strewn about. Guns scattered the camp, but there was nobody else there.

Juliet-22 took a knee and had their weapons raised in case anybody else was hiding. The Spartans took a step forward ahead of the ONI personnel. John kept his eyes on the motion tracker in his helmet. He saw nothing. At the same time, Dima and his men's VISRs displayed no hostile outlines anywhere in the camp. It seemed that they were alone.

John was confused. He could swear that there would be more of the Legionnaires here. There were enough tents for close to a full platoon, but they had only gone through perhaps ten at the most. Where were the other twenty or so? Were they out on patrol? If that were so, they would just need to wait for them to get back.

But that didn't explain the truck. How did that get here? He decided to consult Cortana in the silence of his helmet.

"Any ideas?"

"Something about this camp feels... odd."

John didn't understand. "Care to explain?"

"Does something about the frame feel off to you?"

John knew immediately saw what she meant. The Forerunner material here formed parts of a floating arch. When they had advanced, it seemed part of the accents in the room, but now that he was able to look at it clearly, it was most certainly a doorway of some sort.

"That's a teleporter."

"A Slipspace Terminus to be precise. This one seems much larger than the ones we've been familiar with. The signals coming from it are identical to the transit grid I accessed on Installation 04. This is a staging point, but I don't know what's on the other side. It could lead to anywhere on Requiem's surface, or perhaps even deeper into the planet."

"What do you mean 'deeper'?" John asked.

"We've already passed through one layer of the planet's surface. It's not crazy to think someone made it deeper than we did."

John considered what she just said. "You mean the planet's hollow?"

"That's supposition, but as I said, not impossible."

John switched back to his external speakers. "Commander."

Dima wheeled around at the sound of his rank. "Spartan? Know what we're dealing with?"

"This is a Slipspace portal. Cortana theorizes that it can take us deeper through layers of Requiem's structure."

" _Yes, but I'm not sure about that. As I told the Lieutenant, it can lead anywhere._ "

A Petty Officer piped up. "We should pull back and report to the Admiral."

That was actually sound advice, but John needed to know what was on the other side. Ideally, nothing short of a whole platoon would be used to proceed, but John felt like he didn't have time to wait for heavier reinforcements.

Then again, he didn't know what would be on the other side.

He made his choice quickly.

"Commander Orlav, I'm heading through that gate. Legionnaires may be falling back and took whatever they had here with them."

Dima loosened his posture. "There could be an army on the other side of that."

"I'll deal with it." John said evenly.

Orlav was impressed with his demeanor. The Spartan betrayed no other emotion other than willingness to do his duty.

"I'm going with you." the Commander said.

The Spartan turned to look at Dima with a deepened respect for the man.

" _Commander, that won't be necessary._ " Cortana said. " _You shouldn't place yourself in unnecessary risk._ "

Dima appeared to weigh those words up, but shrugged. " _Blyat_ , I think I'll be fine. It's just a little walk."

Orlav walked towards one of the weapons crates, slinging his weapon over his back. He took a look through whatever the Legionnaires had with them, noticing that several of the rifles were military grade. In among the rifles he found one that caught his eye, a Knight Armories Halberd II. The gun looked almost like it had been designed as an aircraft. It was angular, painted nearly black, and its magazine wrapped around it, obviously extended to hold more ammunition. It was shaped almost like a letter 'W' when released from the weapon. Dima slapped one of these into the weapon and charged it, racking the wing-like handle on the front of the gun. The sound of the weapon chambering the round almost sounded motor like. Three lights winked on just under the sight.

" _Privet, moy milyy_!" He looked at the gun with reverence, then slid the safety into place, cutting off the handle from reciprocating. He grabbed several additional magazines, slotting them into any belt he could get his hands on. Dima looked more like a two-legged tank when he was done.

"I think I'm alright to go." he nodded. He addressed his men: "Everyone stay here and guard this gate. Iannuci, you're in charge until I get back. I give you tactical command and authority. If we do not get in contact with you, you will make your way back to the Prowler. This you must do for me, yes?"

" _Si_ , _capisco_." Iannuci, who had as strong a Sardinian accent as Dima had a Russian, said. "I'll do it."

"Wait!" a voice down the hall called out.

Guns were raised. The entire ONI crew looked to see who was making the noise. Three figures were running towards them. Two were wearing jet black while another wore civilian clothing albeit with several armor plates put over the arms and legs. The figure, clearly Humanoid and female. When the figure got closer, she was obviously Mobian from the bright purple color of her dyed fur. It was an Echidna with a strange double barreled shotgun placed in an overly large thigh holster.

"Wait!" she called again. "Wait for me!"

"Who the hell are you?" Dima asked, walking forward.

The Echidna ran up the ramp almost tripping on the Forerunner details. One of the agents, a large man with an impressive mustache caught her under the arm. The other two were Human, and obviously ONI. The combat personnel stiffened when they saw three bright yellow bars on their shoulders.

The mustached man spoke first. "Commanders Scott and Baulkner. ONI Section One."

The men were tempted to salute, but in a warzone, this was a very dangerous thing to do. They wisely kept their hands to their sides.

"And you...?" Dima asked.

"Julie-Su Marisdaughter." She huffed, catching her breath. "House of Luger. Uh... civilian, I guess." She held out her hand to Dima, who took it after a bit of hesitation.

"Please forgive my ignorance... but what are you doing here?"

"Please address us with that question, Commander." Scott said.

Dima bit his lip slightly. Though he and this agent were the same rank, Scott was technically his superior, even outranking the Spartans in both rating and authority.

"To answer your question, some of the fleet has been able to make it through the portal on the outside of Requiem's surface. We followed the last known coordinates of your Prowler and followed you here."

"But why are you with us? Doesn't Section One operate better alone?"

"Miss Su has knowledge of the Dark Legion and how they operate." Baulkner explained.

Dima raised an eyebrow.

"Can you fight?" John asked after a brief silence.

"My whole life. This isn't the first time the Legion's appeared." Su explained. She tapped the shotgun on her holster. "I can handle them."

"Well, more help is always a plus." Armand said. "Chief? You good with this?"

The Spartan didn't say anything for e moment before saying evenly, "Let's get moving. You, stay behind us. If things get bad, we can deflect some of the incoming fire."

They turned towards the door. John waited until a panel appeared from the floor.

"She's going to slow us down." he told Cortana in the privacy of his helmet.

"You're not wrong, but Armand's right. We can use any help we can find."

"I'm not responsible if takes a bullet."

"Just be your usual self and kill anything before it gets to us. Problem solved."

"Good plan. Easy to follow."

Julie-Su looked at the other ONI personnel and said, "I hope I'm not a problem."

"You're a breath of fresh air." Kim said, lifting her helmet off her head for a second to reveal her face. She winked for a second before slotting it back on and sealing it.

The echidna suddenly felt a lot more comfortable with one of her own around. Despite their genetic similarities, she still considered Humans aliens before anything else.

John keyed the gate. A swirling dark blue vortex formed in the center of the Terminus. It was large, almost twenty feet across.

The newcomers looked ready, but Su had a bit of uncertainty on her face as any civilian would. She drew her shotgun and checked the magazine before holding it at half height. "Let's do this!"

"Move out." John said beginning the march forward. Before he crossed the Terminus threshold, he noticed that Portsmouth's light had winked off.

He walked into the portal and found himself tugged by vertigo. There was no indication he actually went anywhere, and instead of bumping into a solid wall, he appeared in a strange location. Around him were rocks, crags, mountains, and canyons, but what was different was that each of these things went into the distance and started to curve. Not away from them as was normal, but up and over their heads.

The place he was in was a hollow spherical area which may have been a hundred miles across, with lines of magma running all over the surfaces, forming yellow orange lines in the distance. Cortana was right. They went deeper into the planet. Far deeper than John had thought they would. He had an odd idea of where they might be.

The other members of his group, Orlav, Kim, Armand, Baulkner, Scott, and Su, all appeared in the time he had wondered about this place.

"Welcome to Requiem's core." Cortana said. "We're approximately 4,120 miles from our entrance point."

"Core?" Julie-Su asked. "Like, the core of the planet?"

"That's impossible." Dima said. "How are we here?"

"We can worry about that later." John said. "Right now we need to find out where the cultists went off to."

It didn't take long. After ordering his group down the natural passageway from the Terminus' exit point, they found what looked like an identical camp from the entry area. However, this camp was filled with corpses - dozens of them. Legionnaires, both Human, and Mobian, covered the ground. Nearly all were still in one piece. None of their explosives went off.

"Kim. Take a look." John said.

The Spartan edged forward, rifle raised. She came to the closest body. This man's chest had numerous cables and miniature arms coming from it. His face seemed original, until she saw that his eyes were compound, like an insect's. She averted the gaze from the dead man and looked at the divot in his upper torso.

"They're getting better at this." Julie-Su grumbled. "Finitevus is using Kintobor's skill in machinery to make better implants."

" _Finitevus_?" Cortana asked.

"An outcast. Someone who has no business of breathing. I'm sure he's in charge."

Kim brought herself closer to the wound, getting down on one knee and peering over. A part of her was afraid the Legionnaire was going to get up and grab her, but the man was dead, if he could be called a 'man' anymore.

"That's cauterized blood, but this doesn't look like a bullet wound or plasma. It's like the burning was local, but this was still a projectile in some way."

"Hard light." Scott said.

"Oooh shit." Baulkner added.

"What does that mean?" Dima asked.

He got his answer. Around them, bright lights covered their vision. When they disappeared, strange things stood around them: several bipedal creatures with hunched backs, glowing blades, heavy plated armor, and glowing blue faces roared at them.

They were ugly, but moved with unnatural grace. Julie-Su gave a gasp of horror at them, but Scott and Baulkner knew exactly what they were looking at.

"We've got Prometheans!" Scott screamed. "Fall back! Grab some cover!"

Dima didn't need any convincing as he shouldered the Halberd and backed off, cursing in Russian.

"Kim! Get out of there!" John roared.

The Mobian Spartan was still looking at the dead Legionnaire as they phased in, and looked up and gasped just as the first Forerunner monstrosity charged towards her with blade raised. As it reached her and knocked her on her back, it's faceplate slid open, revealing a skull-like face that screamed at her.


	10. Chapter 9: Awakening

**A/N: I've attempted to link art to the characters, but I have not been able to do so for some reason. I'm not sure if I can actually put links in full here. So, on my DeviantART, the same as this screen-name, art for Kim, Armand, Orlav, Scion, and even Julie-Su has been uploaded so you get an idea of what they look like.  
**

* * *

Chapter 9: Awakening  
December 26th, 3241, 1600 hours  
Requiem, Epoloch System  
Core of Requiem

Scion was not a typical automaton. He was not like his brothers, or as they were supposed to be called, inferior units. He was not part of their collective, and thus was an individual, a rarity among robots. He thanked his creator for granting him consciousness, though couldn't help but wonder if he truly existed before Dr. Julian Kintobor had given him the greatest gift one could actually give.

Scion was a unique model, one of five to be precise - units specifically created to serve as a cut above the rest; leaders in every sense of the word for the armies of Kintobor's robotic forces, as well as inspirations for the troops of the Dark Legion.

He stood at seven feet in height, shaped much like that of a well built Human male. He was clad in armor plating, in fact, just about all of his exterior was made of armor plating. His face however was close enough to a Human's that it could be distinguished as such, but specifically designed to be off enough to cause discomfort. He didn't possess eyes, ears, or a mouth, but a part of his metal face jutted out enough to give the impression of a nose. Scion didn't need any of these things in order to operate. He had a suite of electronic sensors just beneath the facade of his faceplate that could visually scan a battlefield in visible light, infrared, and in X-ray wavelengths, leaving his enemies nowhere to hide. His 'mind', or his positronic brain, was something that he barely understood himself. It was a hyper-advanced piece of technology that the Doctor very rarely used as it was difficult to make. However, with the help of Finitevus, the leader of the Legionnaires, they together developed these five brains that was housed in Scion's mind as well as his brothers.

In truth, as a robot, Scion was technically neither male nor female, but he had chosen the voice, and personality of a Human male. It didn't matter what he chose, as long as his subordinates listened, that was all that mattered.

The Legionnaires had pushed deeper into the layers of Requiem than the UNSC had, and for longer than the military had been aware of their presence. Over a hundred thousand Legionnaires were on Requiem at once, but their numbers were far greater than this. Too many wanted an opportunity to strike at the UEG. Many colony worlds had populations that willingly joined the cause to make Earth pay for ignoring them in the past, or oppressing them in the present, and more than a few Mobians thought that the Kingdom had thought itself 'better' than the rest of the planet. In short, the Doctors had no shortage of recruits.

It was on the platform of the central area in the Core that Scion stood alongside a few elite Legionnaires. The robot stood at least a good head over the tallest, and this was not done by mistake. Everyone would look up to him out of necessity. At the head of their group, Doctor Julian Kintobor stood alongside Finitevus.

"I've never seen anything like it." Kintobor said in total shock. He was dressed in a fairly mundane outfit - a long red coat over a plain shirt and pants. On his nose were specially crafted glasses made to reflect light like lamps themselves. Next to him was the shorter and slimmer Finitevus, an Echidnan bio-engineer exiled from Albion for craft that shocked his leaders. He was enjoying the perks of his own creation. His eyes had been replaced a long time ago. The augmented organs could see in different wavelengths, and below his bright white coat that went down to his knees, several more enhancements were covered by the fake fur and skin that made people underestimate him. Scion knew that Finitevus was more machine than man.

"Yes, a standard piece of Forerunner technology that seems quite magical by our standards."

"I've never read about this before." Kintobor said, folding his arms. "What did they call it?"

"This thing?" Finitevus chuckled. "They called it a Cryptum."

Floating in the middle of this structure, suspended in space around it, was a spherical structure perhaps a forty or fifty meters across covered in intricate carvings and designs. Forerunner runes crossed it in several locations, some of them glowing bright orange. The Cryptum just hung suspended in the air, not rotating or bobbing. It seemed to be just as solid as the rest of the world around it.

"I take it that it's some sort of container?" Robotnik asked, walking a small distance away from Finitevus, looking at the echidna and then to the ovoid. "What does it hold?"

"A man."

"Excuse me?" Robotnik's glasses flashed.

Finitevus' heavily modified heart began to beat quicker as the thought crossed his mind. He was excited, though he hid this feeling well. "If I am correct, and I rarely am wrong, this holds a Forerunner within it."

"Cryptum." Julian repeated now looking back. "Of course. But is he dead?"

"No!" Finitevus waved his hand. "No! Very much alive!"

"But who could be so..." Robotnik began, before saying, "This is the Didact?"

"Indeed." the bio-engineer said. "By the Ancestors, he's still here! After a hundred thousand years." Finitevus pushed his glasses back up his nose and turned around to face Scion. "Get the men to an interface panel and attempt to access the systems to get this device open. The Forerunner inside is of extreme importance to me. Find any Legionnaire with organic limbs and try to get them to access the system. If they're a Reclaimer, they will be able to access further."

"I understand." the robot said. "What if the Didact proves hostile?" he gestured with a flick of his head. "Do you have further orders on how we proceed into... combat?"

Kintobor smiled as he watched Scion move. He and his brothers were his best work yet. Finitevus approved for different reasons. Scion moved and spoke not like the mindless automata that served the doctor, but like a Human being, and Finitevus, being a Mobian, silently chuckled within. That had been exactly the point.

The echidna spoke, "Combat is not expected if you use the phrases I have given to you. However, if things do get bad, retreating would be worse. The Didact will likely escape if you pull back immediately. I have contingencies in case the worst happens."

Scion nodded. "I understand." the mechanical man tilted his head away as if hearing something from a distance. "One of our base camps just sent a quick flash signal. They've gone offline."

"Then we're running out of time." Kintobor said folding his arms. "The Promethean warriors are waking up. It seems our efforts to keep hidden have finally fallen apart."

"Were we kept hidden?" Finitevus asked with eyebrows raised. "Or were we simply allowed to get this far?" the Mobian glanced to the Cryptum. "I wonder if he's still conscious in there...?"

A Legionnaire shouted something from down the hall.

"Out of time." Robotnik said. "Scion, take 2-2 Sigma, 7-1 Omicron, and 12-2 Beta to hold off the Prometheans.

"No!" Finitevus said, "Scion, you stay with the Legionnaires and make your way to the contacts! We will not risk failure here!" before glancing at the Overlander doctor before adding, "As for the drones, they can go into battle."

"Aye-aye!" Scion said.

"We will continue our own operations on Parl. The ansible should be providing you and your brothers with status updates. Good luck, and contact us when the task has been completed."

Both the image of Finitevus and Kintobor wavered slightly until they disappeared, leaving Scion and two Legionnaires in the space alone.

"Let's go." he nodded to both of them. He pulled the RE-45 handgun from his thigh holster. He grabbed a magazine from his utility belt and slapped it into the gun. With mechanical precision and speed, Scion racked the slide, leaving the hammer locked back, making the weapon ready to fire. "Get the Reclaimers together. We make a run the control panel somewhere on this structure."

The Legionnaires nodded. When Scion turned to run, they followed him with metallic limbs clanking on Forerunner metal. When he emerged from the hallway into the massive open-air platform, he could see the amazing sight of the Cryptum hovering beyond his reach. The next thing he noticed was the sound of violence and battle in the air. Where there were none before, the platform was covered with bipedal robots with hunched backs, glowing bladed weapons, and blue glowing lines. They were flanked by swarms of dog-like crawling beasts shrieking and screaming while chasing down legionnaires.

"I want the men to push forward now!" Scion called into the radio. "Drone units will close in and engage with Promethean hostiles! Let's move, people!"

Scion's actuators screamed as he kicked his top speed over that of an Olympic Sprinter. The open space just below the Cryptum was covered in no time at all. All around him, miniature Slipspace portals were opening, shining bright blue as matter streamed through at high frequencies. To Scion though, these portals were rainbows of color displayed in bands of light that the average Human had no name for. These rainbow bursts of deep purples, magentas, and reds mixed over visible light would have made an average man or even Legionnaire with their optical implants double over in pain. However, these deposited the bipedal Prometheans - robotic soldiers that were like scalpels versus the blunt instruments that were Robotnik's drones. Glowing orange weapons were in their hands. The leader of a small fireteam of the Promethean bipedal robots fired a long and wicked-looking device longer than it was tall. A bright orange beam streaked across the open space and intersected a Legionnaire square in the heart. The Mobian shuddered as his body turned to wisps of red hot ash.

"Son of a bitch!" Scion heard one of them say. "How are we supposed to fight that?"

The Legionnaire in question had a large rifle in his gloved hands, though he wore little protection other than the robes that indeed offered some degree of ballistic protection. Against what these things wielded, there was no promise of any such shielding.

Scion knew this and ordered a charge. Standing back to fight them would be useless. "I want Reclaimers behind me!" he ordered, his voice magnified to reach over the din of the battlefield. "Drones, continue to draw fire!" the advanced robot barked, firing his weapon at the approaching dog-like creatures. The Shieldbreaker rounds loaded into the magazine popped off their bodies in whining ricochets, but when a bullet slammed into the glowing location where the mouth would be, it burst into metal shards.

"Legionnaires!" He began. "Aim for the mouth on the quadrupeds!"

Those armed with rifles followed Scion's orders quickly, and with concentrated automatic fire, began to wipe the floor. The crawling Prometheans were no match for ranged weaponry. Even as they spat their hard-light ammunition at them, managing to kill a couple of their soldiers, it meant very little. At best, the squat creatures were just weathering the storm.

The large ones on the other hand took very differently to the whole ordeal. They began to charge themselves with blades unfolding from their arms. Some of the Legionnaires broke ranks, meeting them in battle with swords and knives of their own. Hold-out energy swords emerged from wrist sheaths as the first of the modified soldiers met the Forerunner constructs.

The result was a glorious, bloody, and horrifying mix, with each side managing to impale, sever, and mutilate one another, with Forerunner swords cauterizing cuts as soon as they were made, while the monomolecular swords cut cleaner than any blade ever could hope to do. Several Legionnaire fail-safes triggered, causing the dead or badly wounded to explode in a massive fireball, engulfing ranks of Prometheans and leaving nothing except for metal and bone behind.

Scion's men pushed though. They were battalion strength with about one hundred and fifty standing men continuing to make their way to where Scion believed the interface was. The Legionnaires took turns waiting as an elevator brought them up a small distance so that they could fight anew. The area beyond was a large bent open area with shifting geometry. Every now and again, sections of the room would slowly disintegrate and later reintegrate themselves, often at odd angles. Scion thought it was strange that there was no rhyme or reason as to how the pillars, or boxes, or accents, or even small doors themselves, would just go wherever they felt like going. At times it even seemed that the reintegration was actually working against them, like the system had a mind of its own.

He ordered half of the Legionnaires to take an upper pathway to the right which passed through a vestibule on the near and far end of the area stretch. From here, they could rain down fire to give their brothers a fair charge down below. Scion himself took the middle road, quickly holstering his gun and grabbing two Ontario Combat Knives from their individual sheaths on his back. Knife was a bit misleading as the blades were nearly a foot long with an additional four inches of grip behind them. Scion wielded them as if they were a pair of short swords. He had perfect ambidexterity, and why wouldn't he?

Two Prometheans charged him. He searched for a weak point in their armor and brought down one of the knives in a slash, breaking a thin part of its arm from sheer speed behind the strike. The machine opened its faceplate to give a defiant roar. Scion was able to see up close what the true face of this creature was. It was a bright blue skull with even brighter eye sockets. Its jaw hung open and a warbled and hellish scream escaped its mouth.

"You don't scare me." Scion said before stabbing his knife up to the hilt into the Promethean's skull. The jaw went slack and he pulled the blade out while kicking the construct away from him. The body twitched as it glowed brightly before falling apart in glowing strips. He had no time to muse on this. The second robot took offense at the death of its comrade and fired its angular yet squat gun in its bony-looking fingers. Energetic and quick but staccato bursts of sounds filled the air as a wall of hard light crossed less than fifteen feet to lash out at Scion. He felt the impact of the hard light, but against his integrated energy shield. The Forerunner ammunition felt like a flurry of small punches against his body, but he still held strong, lunging forward with one fist, holding one knife, cracked across the faceplate of the Promethean, snapping its head to the side and knocking it off balance. Scion flipped the knife in his right hand and stabbed upwards several times into the chest of the construct. The metallic body seemed to twitch with every single piercing and when it moved no longer, he threw it aside as it was already dissolving.

They were still making good progress, though the Legionnaires were still falling, robes burning from the hard light projectiles that had over penetrated their bodies. Several fail-safes triggered and they exploded in flowers of flame, flinging several Prometheans into the air, sputtering into non-existence. This was pointless. If they didn't run, they wouldn't have any other Reclaimers to activate this equipment.

"7-1 Omicron! Disengage and move in to assist Legionnaires!" Scion barked into his radio. Several of the red-orange biped robots turned and left from their main group near the terminus. A squad of ten drones had survived holding off the Prometheans, but they dutifully charged into the fray supporting their organic counterparts. As they passed his position with weapons up and blazing, Scion could make out the logo on their shoulders - a laughing death's head-looking face in a bright red color. Scion had the same logo on his body - the body made by Julian Kintobor. However, he took his orders from Finitevus first, which puzzled him from time to time. It still puzzled him as he skewered several of the crawling Forerunner constructs, ignoring their screams of what could have actually been pain as the knife went right through their vulnerable mouths. He flung their lifeless bodies off with a flick of his wrist as he continued onwards. One last incline remained as he got closer to what appeared to be a platform extending closer to that of the Cryptum. This had to be the control center.

A Legionnaire calling himself Undertow was making good progress with a belt of ammunition strapped across his bare chest feeding a gigantic rotary machine gun that he hefted in one heavily augmented arm. The cultist had ditched his robe at the beginning of the firefight, but he moved, as extremely vulnerable as he was. The gun sang as its barrels twirled, expelling yellow hot flame. Tracers streamed across the Forerunner structure impacting off hard-light structures that materialized in an instant. The hum of the weapon must would have made the Legionnaire go deaf were it not for the fact that two small domes were in place of where his ears logically would have been. He laughed like a mad man. In fact, he very likely was mentally disturbed. Scion had learned about many of the more 'prolific' Legionnaires. Many of them had been inmates at the High Moon Supermax Prison far from the reaches of civilized space. While many of these men and women could hardly be 'sane' in the strictest sense to begin with, earning several life sentences for depraved and violent acts of the highest caliber, but their isolation with no sigh of civilization save for the smudge of the galaxy above their heads every night for six months of the year, with the remainder being in the absolute darkness of intergalactic space, broke them completely.

Scion's mind processed this quickly as Undertow cackled, spent shell casings spewing from the ejection port of his machine gun like a brass colored rainbow. The casings impacted the impossibly ancient walkway, the sound of which drowned out by weapons discharge. All in front of him, Forerunners wilted like weeds, fading out of existence as their bodies were destroyed. It wasn't until now, as his legs pumped, slamming his metal soles into the ground, that he noticed the Prometheans left behind sparkling clouds... or were they just sparks?

He charged through one of them, the remains of one of the large ones. On the ground he saw a Forerunner weapon, a long and angled gun that he made a beeline for. He sheathed his knives and picked it up midstride. The weapon morphed around his hand. He could feel the grip reshaping itself to match his digits. He retained his speed as he kept the weapon shouldered. Up ahead, the path took a hard right. Undertow was right behind him. Following the Legionnaire, two more soldiers came up the incline. All of their limbs with the exception of the right arm had been replaced, and that was specifically to access Forerunner systems. All three of them were Human.

Scion ordered them to press against the wall, a half- high block of shifting metal. By the time they got into a defensive position, a squad of Robotnik's drones passed them. Immediately, they took fire from a position they could not see.

They took the opportunity to reload their weapons. Undertow slapped a new belt into his machine gun and pulled back on the massive offset charging handle. He pulled a cigar from somewhere on his belt and lit it.

"That smoke's going to give us away." Scion advised. "Put it out."

"They're not focused on us, sir." Undertow growled, his voice like two rocks grinding against one another. "The pawns are taking the hits for us."

Scion shook his head and peeked around the corner. His vision enhanced the area where a squad of Prometheans were holding. His cameras increased resolution. It looked like a pedestal. No, two pedestals, set apart from one another. That had to be the access point.

"OK. Here's the plan." Scion began, looking at the weapon. He had no idea how to check for ammunition, or how to even eject the magazine from the gun, if there even was a magazine. All he knew was that there was a trigger, and a stub not far from his thumb. Maybe that was the ejection. "Undertow, give us some suppressing fire." he said to the former prisoner. The man whirled his augmented arm around to give a thumbs up to the robot. Scion's HUD identified the other men as Marlow and Manx. "You two advance. I'm right behind you. The drones will suck up the bulk of the fire."

He took a second and whipped his head around, searching for more IFF tags in his vision. "Where's everyone else?"

"I don't know." Marlow shrugged. "I thought they were right behind us."

The robot didn't move for a moment. Even with no real features on its face he seemed to be thinking hard. None of the men could have ever thought that a robot could suppress anger, but there it was in the disturbing micromovements. Scion was seething in anger.

"On three." he finally said. "Get ready. I'm right behind you."

A round ricocheted from the battle just ahead of them. The screaming round nailed Manx in the throat, tearing right through the carotid artery. Manx fell into shock so quickly, he wasn't even aware of what had just happened. Marlow shoved the man out of the way, and the lifeless Legionnaire fell to the ground face first.

"Now!" Scion barked. "Now! Open up!"

Undertow's arm broke apart. A secondary limb latched onto the gun as its barrels spun around. The sound of battle was drowned in a crack of gunfire like a lightning bolt set on repeat. The rounds spat by the rotary cannon were small but fast, smacking into the Prometheans with enough kinetic force to overload their shields and punch their armor in. The crawlers simply puffed in a flash of hard light. In the excitement, Undertow realized he had never even lit the cigar. With his free hand, he reached into his robes, pulled out the flip zippo that had gone to the prison with him. He flicked the flame on, lit the edge of the cigar, took a puff, and placed the lighter back in the folds of his robes. He then replaced his hand on the still firing machine gun.

Scion had taken Manx's place next to Marlow, who was now the only confirmed Reclaimer to still be alive for all he knew. If Marlow died, the operation was off - they would need to retreat and call for reinforcements. They were so close now...

The space ahead of him was metal carnage. Body parts of the drones were strewn around the field. This fight had been intense. Virtually all the drones had been destroyed save for a few stubborn ones, and even then, they had been severely damaged.

The Prometheans were still around though. Scion sighted the weapon. Part of the gun broke apart and hovered in midair. He could see the weapon's targeting reticle trained on a large Promethean that threatened Marlow. He pulled the trigger. To his surprise, the gun bucked. A bolt of hard light streaked from the barrel and impacted the Forerunner robot just beneath its mask. The round ricocheted into the head, blasting off part of the face covering. The energy of the alien bullet spun the Promethean around, nearly tripping over its own feet. However, the thing righted itself and turned back towards Scion. Its remaining face plate pulled away, revealing the skull beneath. It screamed well over the sound of Undertow's machine gun. He was supposed to be afraid, but all Scion saw was a target. He fired the gun a second time, vaporizing the skull. The body twitched with sudden loss of control and dropped to the ground. He could see it clearly now - the contacts up ahead.

One final alien construct was still standing. This one was different. It had a plume of holographic feathers on its body. In its hand was a massive and jagged piece of metal that glowed red. Scion immediately sighted the gun again. "Marlow! Get down!" He screamed over the radio. Marlow hit the deck as soon as the order came, and not a second too soon. What emerged from the weapon was a spiral of glowing almost gelatinous points of light, twisting around each other. The twirling mass hit somewhere between Scion and Marlow, bursting into a shower of energy that incinerated the area of impact. Marlow backed away, scared.

Scion sprinted, pulling ahead of Marlow as fast as his legs would allow him. Before the Promethean could fire another shot from the cannon, He lowered his center of mass and hit it square in the leg joints with shoulder raised for a charge. He overrode the last of his safeties and hit sixty miles per hour in a burst. He slammed into the legs, breaking them at the knees. The construct fell flat on the ground while he kept on moving. Scion slammed off the wall behind the warrior but righted himself and jumped on it, knife now out again in his off hand. He searched for seams in the armor and slammed the blade in point first. The Promethean screamed in what may have been pain, but he continued to stab into its metallic armor. Scion could not feel pain and thus was dethatched from any sort of sympathy. Finding an area just beneath its back where its body began to curve like a beetle's shell, he wagged the blade, forcing the plates to separate. Scion stuffed the barrel of the Forerunner rifle into the crack and pulled the trigger. The bolt went straight through the armor, ricocheting inside of the body and it never exited from any other angle. The alien robot gasped once, gurgled, and then fell still.

There was silence. Battle continued around the ring, but where they were, things were quiet.

Scion thumbed the part of his gun that caught his attention earlier. The top retracted and the weapon spat a cylinder free from the housing. It clanked somewhere behind him. Good. He knew how to reload the gun now. He scrounged around for another, dropping it into the recesses of the rifle. Slamming it home, he closed shut the top of the rifle and it flashed bright orange. He guessed it had been fully reloaded.

Marlow was still on the ground covering his head, face pressed into the metal, muttering something in his own language, which wasn't one of the Earth-standard derivatives. He came over and pulled him to his feet with one hand. Undertow likewise met up with them. Manx was younger than the bare-chested men by several degrees. His face wasn't lined - not yet anyway. Scion had a passing thought as to how a young man like him ended up in the Legion. Both his legs to his hips were augmented as well as his left arm up to his shoulder. His face seemed clear of any enhancements though.

"Come on. We're out of time." Scion said, gently pushed him to the contacts. A passing wave of relief passed over the mechanical man. They could finish the mission.

His robes pulled up over his head, Marlow slowly walked towards the contacts that stood parallel to one another. He slung his weapon on his shoulder and held out a hand waiting for the feeling to come over him - the feeling of yearning in his mind, like he wanted to be a part of the Forerunners' great plan. He wondered with a slightly giddy thought if this was how all Reclaimers felt. He suddenly just knew what he needed to do.

Scion however was unsure of this now. Despite surviving the fight, he noticed with a start that there were two contacts, but Marlow only had one organic hand. This was distressing. Every single occasion of use before had only required the user to use a single hand. It might still work, but now uncharacteristic apprehension took him. He stood back, silent, in case the computers rejected Marlow. There were rumors of course of what these machines did to 'Reclaimer stand-ins', but he had never seen one personally or otherwise.

Marlow reached out his hands, as if drawn by a giant magnet.

"Come on, kid!" Undertow said. "Do it and let's get out of here!"

Marlow's hood shuddered. Something was calling to him. He licked his lips in anticipation, and set both of his hands, organic and mechanical, on the contacts. He closed his eyes and waited. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds. Nothing happened.

"Did he do it right?" Undertow asked. "Dammit! Didn't work!"

Scion was about to agree, but asked, "Do you feel anything?" to Marlow.

"No, I don't feel anything." he said, but before he even finished that sentence, a loud and reverberating echo of that word projected. It made him jump, but he felt compelled to hold on.

"What the hell was that?!" Undertow shouted. "What did you do?!"

"I don't know!"

Again, another booming echo sounded.

Sounds of fighting completely ceased. There was no sound from either the Legion nor the Prometheans as all looked at the source of the noise: the cryptum.

Nobody said a word as the ancient sphere started to glow. A shrill humming began to fill the air as the sphere began to rotate slowly. Scion backed away, a primordial fear from the Human source code activating itself in his CPU. This had been the goal of his mission and he had accomplished it, but he couldn't help but feel that something horrible was about to happen.

The cryptum lowered, and from its bottom emerged a platform that resembled a closed flower. In that cage, on its knees, was a figure: tall, muscular, but unmistakably alien.

"Holy shit." Undertow breathed.

Holy shit indeed, Scion thought.

* * *

The sun-scorched surface of Parl-265d was vast and seemingly never-ending. The flat and wind-swept surface of the planet was punctuated by only a few mountain ranges stretching for only a couple hundred meters into the air. Other than that, the land was nearly flat. To a common observer, it would have been impossible to see that this planet was once home to an advanced civilization. However, virtually no sign of this life was present.

It was here that Finitevus and Kintobor came in search for a mysterious pyramid. This planet was so far away from civilization close to the galactic core, just over thirty thousand lightyears away from the star Sol. Finitevus glanced through the thick panoramic windshield of the heavy-duty and air-sealed rover. His eyes moved away from the sand dunes and instead up into the sky. There up above was a mess of bright stars that seemed like an explosion of light, bunched together by their own gravity - a globular cluster. The Messier 14 Globular Cluster to be precise. In that sky, dozens of bright and giant stars were burning in a place where a neighbor was less than a lightyear away. Virtually nothing would be able to live in all that radiation, but if it didn't tug at Finitevus' soul.

Parl-265d would never know true night with that in the sky. Even a scant hundred or so lightyears away from the cluster, it was beautifully large like a second sun in the sky, and the echidna could swear that he could feel its warmth if he could just concentrate on it hard enough. He closed his eyes and thought of all those stars in the night sky of Parl. He realized that this system had been flung a very long way from its home, traveling across the vastness of intergalactic space, banished from its home galaxy through means of which he did not know of. This planet was special for more than the reason they had come here.

What tales did the rock beneath the tires hold? To be on a planet formed in another galaxy entirely. What wonders had this planet witnessed?

"Doctor, did you get that?"

Finitevus' eyes snapped open. His cybernetically enhanced. retina startled by the sudden light. His pupils cycled to dots as he glanced to his left.

"What was that, Reihner?" the leader of the Dark Legion asked.

Ambrose Reihner was glancing at him as the wheel spun around in his hands. He made brief eye contact before looking back to the wastes ahead.

"I was saying that Julian's calling you." Reihner repeated, pointing at the communications panel on the dashboard. A symbol of a phone was blinking in green.

"You didn't answer it?" the echidna said, somewhat annoyed.

"What if you didn't want to talk to him?"

A fair point. Not everything that came out of Julian Kintobor's mouth was necessary to listen to. Ambrose had been right to run it by him. Any major call - no pun intended, he thought - would be determined by him unless given strict orders to the contrary. In truth, Finitevus thought rather well of Reihner. True, the man was a Human, but he certainly had his uses. The man had come to him over a year ago, somehow locating him through back channels and the darknet, a most impressive feat itself given the size of the unregulated corners of the Internet. He claimed to have information useful to the Dark Legion, which impressed Finitevus further. The doctor had considered killing the man to keep his then nascent operation a secret, but decided against it once seeing what Reihner had for him - genetic information supposedly showing an ancient temple on a far forgotten world, extracted from a subject before death.

Here he was now, on some alien world that lay unobserved for millennia, perhaps longer, and if the promise of this pyramid was correct, he was about to gain information that could help him bring this... thing... under his control.

The echidna tapped the answer button. "Yes, Julian?"

" _Were you having trouble finding the button_?" came the bemused reply.

The cyborg was not one for sarcasm at a time like this.

"I would hope that you have something important to tell me? We're still away from the target location. So unless it's good, I recommend you keep this channel silent."

" _Scion has an update from his brother_."

That made Finitevus bob his eyebrows. He didn't realize he was licking his lips in anticipation. "...And?"

" _Revival has begun_."

Good news indeed. Finitevus made a sharp but short intake of breath and his internal cybernetics cleaned the air of any impurities, enriching it with its own chemicals. He was excited now, but he made sure not to let it show, though his eyes were telling the bigger tale - staring straight ahead, wide open, and mouth pursed tightly.

"Tell the remaining Legionnaires to form a perimeter around the satellite. The Didact is the priority. Have our ships ready to intervene if he tries to make a run for it. Before you ask, Julian: no, I do not believe this Forerunner will go quietly. Under no circumstances is he to be harmed. If the Didact dies, then our tactical advantage goes with him into the abyss. Relay that to Scion immediately."

" _Naturally_." Kintobor said, no doubt speaking to Scion's brother, who was inside of his own rover, possibly even driving it himself. The ansible was a wonder of Human technology that was easily repurposed for creating the five Scion models, all interlinked and able to share knowledge at faster than light speeds. While not necessarily a hive mind, it remained to be proved whether this robot was in several places at once.

The channel snapped off, and Finitevus turned to his driver.

"Reihner, what's our ETA on that pyramid?"

"Six hours at this speed."

"Blast it. We should have landed closer."

Ambrose looked over. His eyes were heterochromatic - one bright yellow and the other deep blue, no doubt the result of his latest splice fix. He doubted that there was any atom in Reihner's body that was original. Today, his nose was sharp, his jaw was round, and a neat but short beard was trimmed on his face. His hair was spiky blond, and his arms were muscular, all of which he could change on a whim and with a well-placed injection. There was no use placing the term 'normal appearance' to him.

"I'm not saying you're wrong, Doc. But you know that temple still has active defensive systems that took down two of our own ships from orbit."

"Yes, Reihner I am aware."

Finitevus was also aware that if it were anybody but Reihner and possibly Julian that talked back to him like that, he would order them reprimanded. It was perhaps because of Reihner's usefulness as a deep cover operative that kept him not only at the top, but within a web of safety.

"Did 'our friend' have any information as to what was inside the temple?"

"No." Reihner said. "I've been reviewing the MIM footage multiple times. It seemed the Forerunners never even got inside the pyramid. Granted that was all I was able to retrieve from his grey matter before he went offline. Perhaps the Librarian or perhaps the Didact managed to tell him something we never even considered."

"Such as this defense system."Finitevus growled. "Damn it all; having to approach this thing on foot, and in a pressure suit no less."

"Well, you could always wait in the car."

Finitevus crossed his arms. "I will do no such thing, Mr. Reihner. I haven't come all this way just to sit by while Julian gets the upper hand over what we know."

"Well," Reihner said cocking his head, "The ATM is only .92. You'll really just need an oxygen mask for the CO2 atmosphere."

"Strike that actually. I've never had the opportunity to test my bronchial enrichment implants in such an atmosphere. Call it some attachment to my organic past."

"Hey, you can do whatever you want, boss." Reihner said. "I'll have the mask ready on standby in case you bowl over."

"Your concern is appreciated, Ambrose." Finitevus said before looking out the window of the rover again. Six hours more of this rolling wasteland. Perhaps he could get some rest before they arrived at the outskirts of the temple. Yes, that was for the best. Finitevus hadn't slept in over a hundred and forty hours. His neural implants could keep him going for almost two hundred. Regardless, sleep sounded nice. He rubbed his chin, noting that some stubble was beginning to grow, bristled against the carefully groomed fur. Thinking that perhaps he would grow it out, he folded his arms, leaned back, and closed his eyes, plotting his next move until he submitted to unconsciousness.

* * *

The area ahead was steeped in the sounds of battle. John-117 sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him. He was aware that he was taking a very real risk by going ahead of the rest of his group, but the instant Cortana had stated that something was wrong with the satellite at the very center of Requiem had pushed him into a panic. Something was very wrong. There were far more dead cultists ahead than living ones. Several Legionnaires were pinned down by Prometheans. Several of the larger ones, Knights, as determined by Cortana, were lumbering around suppressing the soldiers with hard light weapons spitting glowing rounds. A trio of the robed figures were hunkering down near an outcropping that protected them from the Forerunner constructs, but left them completely open to the Spartan who threw a quick barrage into the hiding cultists. The one in the center caught the burst, two in the heart and one in the head. The Mobian's head jerked back against the rock, and by the time his comrades realized he was dead, the failsafe activated, blowing the outcropping, and the hiding cyborgs apart.

Kim and Armand were at his side, bounding gracefully as they picked their targets with stolen Forerunner weapons. The light rifles in their hands chirped loudly as distant Forerunner enemies exploded in flashes. "Chief! We're coming up on a structure now!" Armand said. "Looks important!"

"Yeah, looks like there's a struggle!" Kim

Julie-Su was the next to arrive in the area, twin barreled shotgun braced on her arm as she ran, tucked close to the ground. Her companions, the ONI agents Scott and Baulkner followed up the rear, pleading for her to slow down.

"Relax!" Scott cried. "Let them come to us! This is going to get you killed if you aren't careful!"

"I can handle it!" Su said in response, following the Spartan's lead. She passed the wreckage of bodies where the cultists had taken cover She checked the chamber and raised it to eye level, keeping it braced on her left arm. Julie-Su never put a stock on the weapon but felt she could handle the 12-gauge shells just fine, especially with what was left of her skeletal enhancements. She took particular joy in putting down these cultists for what they did to her family. She spotted one about thirty meters away, cowering behind a pillar while a group of Prometheans searched for him. She raised the gun and fired a salvo. The pellets struck the Legionnaire just below center mass. She could hear the cry even from where she was at. The chambers cycled, blowing the spent shells out both sides of the gun and she raised for another shot.

"Hold fire!" Baulkner said gripping her on the shoulder. "We don't need to get caught by those things. We don't have enough ammo to stop them all!"

"Just pick up those guns!" Su fired back, "I can handle myself.

"No." Scott said. "We keep moving. Something's telling me things are going to go to hell here soon. You're not staying behind when it happens. You can shoot plenty of these bastards along the way."

They heard a puffing noise behind them. Orlav had caught up. A layer of sweat matted his brow. In his hands he held a Forerunner Light Rifle. He had discarded the Halberd II for the alien weaponry not too long ago. Orlav was a field agent, but he was not used to this much combat. " _Radi boga! Intensivoye!_ "

"Commander?" Scott nodded.

"Thanks for the assist back there, _blyad_! Would it kill you to slow down?"

"We're moving at the Spartans' pace. Don't want to keep up, don't come along."

Orlav was about to say something but held his tongue. "What's the plan, Commander?"

"Just follow." Scott nodded. "Spartans are going to carve a swath through the field of battle."

They all heard a noise and turned. Three Promethean Knights appeared from a rift in space. They roared in defiance - their neon blue faces sending chilling images to their brains.

"They didn't say anything about it filling up!" Su said with gun raised. They all had their guns raised.

Cortana's voice appeared as well in their earpieces. " _Run! Don't try to fight them! There's a corridor at the top of this incline! Get in and I'll lock it behind you._ "

Nobody needed further convincing. The four set off into a short and bending tunnel which brought them to a pathway that led up. A small battle was occurring between the Dark Legion and the Prometheans. They were able to take the Legionnaires completely by surprise wiping them out before they knew they were there. The detonations from their failsafes sent shrapnel up and down the path. Unfortunately, Su took a hit to the arm. Not serious, but she jerked back and let out a gasp of pain anyway. She stopped to look for a second, but Scott shouted at her, "Later! Move!"

The ONI spook took a small beveled cylinder off his belt and primed it. It unfolded at the top and bottom as he threw it in a high arc straight into the opposing force. It twinkled with light before erupting in several spheres of glowing light, seeking out the Promethean soldiers and impacting against them. The resulting effect was strange - the constructs glowing for a second before shattering like glass before whispering away, leaving their path clear.

"And what was that...?" Orlav began.

"Classified biological weapon."

"Biological...?

"Move."

True to Cortana's word, the massive door slid shut once Orlav, the last of the group, crossed the threshold. Several portions of the door's geometry slid around and it glowed red, signaling it was shut.

They waited for a few seconds and checked their surroundings. It was a hallway, heavily mechanical and built into what appeared to be a rock face. It was tall too with the roof of the structure being perhaps forty feet above them. It was a dull metallic grey with every conceivable light source being reflected in some manner. It was almost as if the hall were lacquered. It curved towards the left with no end in sight.

"OK. I vote for a five minute breather." Orlav said raising a hand and sitting against a wall. "I need to catch my breath."

"Get up." Scott said. "You can rest after we secure the area."

"And when will that be? We don't have an area to secure - it's a planet's core! Five minutes, OK?"

"Three." Scott said walking away. "Su, you alright to go on?"

"Sure." she said taking two new magazines out of her belt and slapping them under the barrels. "Guess I don't need a breather."

"Glad someone doesn't." He nodded, glancing long enough for Orlav to flip him off. "Baulkner, stay behind and make sure he's ready to move in two and a half minutes."

"Aye-aye." the agent nodded.

Scott set off first at a half jog with the echidna at his side. They moved just beyond the curve of the hallway. Who knew how far away the Spartans were now.

"Does something like this fall outside of the Dark Legion's MO?" Scott asked.

"Couldn't tell you." Julie-Su said. "They've never really done anything like this before. They do like their secrets and deep dark places." She glanced up at the ceiling, or rather, the area that she knew was outside of it. "Maybe they'd like it here. Can you believe that this is the core of a whole planet?"

"I've seen my fair share of Forerunner installations. I knew this one guy, Alvarez, who was specifically tasked to look for weird bases or buildings and a couple of times found shield worlds. By accident. I guess they're everywhere."

Scott smiled at the anecdote, but Su looked straight forward, resolved to find Finitevus. It was the reason she was here after all."What does this... Didact have to do with the Prisoner?"

"Seems he at least knew about it himself. If we can get to him, maybe we can get him to see our way of things. Better than what the Legion must have in store for him. Doubt they could actually hurt him though."

The sounds of gunfire grew louder as they entered the next section. Baulkner and Dima joined up with them, the combat operative now much happier that he had gotten his two and a half minute breather. The Spartans were clearing house. Just three of them had created a major dent in the enemy's defense.

"Spartans, we're entering the combat zone." Scott radioed.

" _Not much of one left_!" Kim responded. "Feel free to pick up whatever's left."

The three suits of armor were dashing around the area. In the center was a large structure that stood perhaps three stories in the air like a fort. A bridge led away from the structure into the rock wall.

Dima took aim first at the crawlers, taking careful shots with his light rifle to pick them off before they became more than a nuisance.

"Make for that central structure." he ordered.

Without argument, the others moved. Orlav ejected the magazine from the weapon and slotted another cylinder into the gun. He giggled with child-like wonder as the weapon slid shut by itself.

The quadruped creatures exploded in flashes of light, screeching as the bolts of energy slammed into them. None of the larger ones were around, but glowing motes of light signified their former presence. Orlav caught sight of John-117 running to him as he cleared his final target.

"Looks like a dead end." Orlav said, jogging to the base of the structure. Amazingly, the Spartan seemed to have retained his original weapon, and judging by his ammunition pouches, still retained a few more full magazines. His aim must have been such that he had placed every shot lovingly, missing few, if any.

"That's not true." John shook his head slightly, motioning to the bridge. "We haven't seen where that goes yet."

"Could be a dead end."

" _Then again it could be a way to get to the satellite at the core._ " Cortana added. " _We won't know unless we get up to figure it out._ "

"Very well." Orlav nodded.

"I'll be making that call." Scott said, glancing at the ONI combat operative. "As a matter of fact, Orlav, why don't you go and check it out?"

It wasn't a request; Scott was flexing his muscles and keeping the others in line. Orlav grumbled, " _Idti vint kozla, suka blyat_."

"Kim, go with him." John quickly added.

"Sir." the Mobian nodded, jogging up to the agent. "Come on." she said hooking her head up the incline. "The sooner we check that out the sooner we get out of here."

Halfway up the pylon, Orlav looked to Kim. "I thought they cleared the assholes out of ONI during the purge."

"Scott's not a criminal." Kim said. "He doesn't act like one. An asshole he may be."

"Should have gotten broomed anyway." he said out of the corner of his mouth, rolling the R-phoneme.

"How's the view up there?" Julie-Su asked when they reached the top floor. They could see Kim and Dima when they passed close to a balcony. "See anything?"

"Negative." Kim said. "Nothing up here or down there. Looks like a graveyard."

She was right. Bodies of dead cultists were strewn about the place. In addition to the corpses that hadn't detonated, robotic bodies of what was unmistakably Julian Kintobor's drones covered the purple-grey soil. She hadn't noticed them, as she was completely engrossed in combat firing on anything that was moving first. On instinct, she quickly grabbed her sidearm, slipped the magazine out without looking and pressed down on the top of the stack of cartridges. The spring didn't travel far. She must have had a nearly full magazine of fifteen shots maybe sixteen with one in the chamber, totaling seventeen rounds.

"Expecting trouble?" Dima asked.

"Never can be sure." she said with a quick jerking of her head. "Come on, let's check out that bridge." She tapped into the team's communication channel. "If you want to come on up, the top floor is clear."

" _Understood_." John said.

" _Petty Officer, I'm getting some strange readings coming from just beyond where the walkway heads into the larger structure behind it._ " Cortana said. " _Perhaps it's communications equipment or maybe even another Terminus. There's no way this is a simple dead end. It makes no sense for how they got here_."

"I'll check it out, ma'am." Kim nodded. "Come on, sir." she added off the channel. "Stay behind me."

Orlav felt glad that Kim was trusting of him. Though Dima did have some degree of energy shielding, it wasn't the same as a Spartan's and not the same degree of strength. If he took a hard enough hit, he would go down. Absentmindedly, he wondered what his other men were up to or whether they were overrun by Prometheans. He tried to make a call back to his people but was answered with static.

"They're fine." Kim assured him, though he had no way to be sure and realized the Spartan was only reassuring him.

The bridge was at the back of the pylon - a narrow walkway suspended above the ground with accents around it. These vaguely ovoid shapes twisted around in midair, sliding over themselves. Kim and Dima looked up to see the massive structure extend so high that clouds began to bunch around it. It must have only been perhaps five hundred feet high or so.

Up ahead, the light was blinding. Dima's glasses polarized as far as they could to protect his vision. The passageway was narrow, but up ahead they saw what was perhaps a window containing something exceptionally bright. It looked like a dead end.

"That can't be right." Kim said. "How did they..." she trailed off before calling to the rest of the group. "OK, looks like a small compartment back here looking into some sort of power source - my guess. It doesn't look particularly interesting. Perhaps twelve feet by ten feet and a bit rounded.

" _You see any interesting panels or buttons_?" Cortana asked.

At those words, a panel formed from metal that came from somewhere. Pieces flew from points around the room and combined into a rectangular piece a bit large than her hand in terms of dimensions. A hologram deployed from it showing a flat screen.

"Yeah, one just popped up." She followed the window and saw that the ceiling extended for a good distance vertically. "I think this is an elevator."

" _We're on our way now_." Cortana said. " _Be there in a second_."

In an instant, Scott, Baulkner, Armand, Su, and John arrived at the panel. John walked forward The small area filled up quickly as John made his way to the front. Kim stepped aside, making sure that she did not step on Orlav's feet. The Human was right behind her staring out the window at the twirling rings beyond the transparent paneling.

"Will this take us up?" John asked.

" _Only one way to find out. Only one button too._ " Cortana chirped. " _I think this is a communications pylon of some sort. I can't tell what it's supposed to be communicating with though - it's been deactivated_."

"Recently?" Scott asked.

" _Can't be sure._ " The AI responded.

John reached out a hand, the slight tingling at the base of his skull compelling him to reach forward. He let his index finger touch the hologram and slowly the platform began to rise.

Julie-Su was unprepared for the movement and jumped slightly. This ancient alien stuff was a bit over her head. She knew very little of what Forerunners were beyond the obvious that they were aliens and had been around for a very long time - millions of years. Seeing something like this constantly blew her away. True, the Echidnae had been around a long time and had some advanced machinery too, but this was damn near magical what she was seeing. The fact that the Dark Legion were this close to possessing a whole artificial planet was galling to her. Who knows what else they would get their hands on. She learned that Scott had ordered an increase in security around other Forerunner sites, but it was apparent that ONI had no knowledge of Requiem's location, which seemed odd to her.

The elevator continued to go upwards. She decided to break the silence.

"So, was anybody supposed to... you know, live here?"

"What?" Dima asked, surprised.

"I mean, it looks like a great place to set up a city or two. Were people supposed to live on this planet?"

Baulkner answered. "No idea. Places like the Dyson world Trevelyan seemed to have facilities set up on the interior, but if the Didact... lives here... perhaps it was a world for Warrior-Servants."

The Echidna cocked her head. "And that's important because...?"

"They enjoy a more Spartan existence." Baulkner answered. Armand turned to look at him. "No pun intended." the agent added. "Maybe the exterior layer is more a game preserve or sanctuary. It's not the first time their rate's made humble homes to live in. Who knows. Maybe people never made it here in time when the Halos fired."

Julie-Su half-nodded, not quite satisfied with the open answer. However, she could say that she learned something from this ordeal.

At the top of the elevator, a large flat area stood before them with an active terminus at the end. An inactive control port stood at the close end of the elevator.

"There we go." Cortana said over the external speakers. "That's how they went forward. That active terminus may lead to another hub area. Maybe even to the satellite!"

Dima stepped close to the control panel. He looked at it in interest, tracing his finger around the rounded edge. Julie-Su came up to him. "What's up?" she asked.

"The Legion must have shut this down." he said, looking straight up. "I think whatever was here is supposed to be communicating with whatever's up there."

"That... would make sense actually." Cortana said after a second of thought. "Maybe this is a power grid then, like a large power cable..."

There was silence for a beat, and then she said, "Get through that terminus. I have a theory."

The group obeyed, half-running across the empty ground to the terminus. John went through first and felt himself stepping through vast spaces in an instant like running through a wall of thick water. The next thing he felt was hitting a solid body in front of him. In another instant, he saw the red and black robes of a Legionnaire that turned to face him. The Mobian looked angry at first, but then his jaw dropped in sheer terror as the golden faceplate glared inscrutably at him. The Legionnaire was so frightened, he couldn't even scream. In one swift motion, the Spartan jerked his hand forward knocking the wind out of the cyborg, breaking three ribs in a 'soft' punch. The Legionnaire doubled over, spitting blood onto the alien floors and began to try and crawl away before John grasped him by one arm and a leg and in one swift motion, flung the Mobian down the hallway, limbs flailing until he slammed into the door, which slowly slid open a second later. Two seconds after this, four robed figures looked into the hallway where they heard the impact, and upon seeing the seven foot giant in green armor, immediately fell back, screeching.

John wasted no time, running forward and gripping both his knife and sidearm. He ran forward, blade in his left hand and gun in the right. When he went through the doorway, he swung his knife to the left, catching the waiting Legionnaire in the heart. The man jerked and stiffened. An instant later, John pointed the gun at the head of the Mobian on his right, the otter's face immediately softening as the barrel met eye level. John squeezed the trigger and the gun went off at point blank range, putting the bullet straight through the skull in an instant. Both men fell to the deck within a second, leaving the remaining two behind a ramp at the far end of the room.

The Legionnaires' failsafes went off - their eyes glowing brightly as their implanted bombs were ready to blow. John kicked both men off the platform where they detonated below the walkway. By this time, the rest of his team arrived and were putting suppressing fire on the ramp. They could barely hear the Legionnaires as they panicked, making for an active terminal straight behind them. They made frantic bursts with their stolen weapons, but took too many hits before falling over on the walkway.

"Area secure!" Dima shouted. "No place to hide!"

"Confirmed." Kim said striding forward and checking the bodies. They hadn't gone off, so those bullets must have done some work on the bombs.

"Looks like a hub of some sort." Cortana said. "Look at these."

Three terminii were active at the end of the room with a large view of the area beyond. They all recognized from watching the glowing points of light at the ends of what was the core chamber that they were just down there.

"Wait, are we sideways?" Armand thought out loud. "Should we be pointed down?"

"That's the weirdest thing you've seen all day?" Kim retaliated.

John stepped forward looking at the three gates and then to the shape at the center of the chamber. A silver and orange mass was huddled in the space at the center of Requiem. The satellite.

"This is a transit hub that leads to either of those two pylons you see there. I believe we were at the one on the right."

Everyone's eyes glanced over at the point on the right of the satellite. They had jumped hundreds of miles in an instant.

"It looks like both these pylons have been deactivated." The AI continued. "And look at that, they left the gate open just for us."

"Goody." Scott said. "There's likely hostiles on the other end."

"This looks their advance guard though." Baulkner added, pointing to the corpses. "They probably didn't think we would get this far. It's probably light security on the other side." He gestured to the center portal. "That one gets us to the satellite?"

"Seems that way." Cortana said in a way that would seem well-paired with a shrug. "I'd recommend moving quickly though.

"Agreed." John said. "Get through that gate."

Nothing else needed to be explained. Everyone double-timed it to the terminus, passing through in double file.

When the haze of the Slipspace portal cleared, nobody dare make a move. Ahead of them was a sprawling collection of platforms, and on them lay corpses and destroyed chasses of what were no doubt Robotnik's drones. At the center of it all was a large sphere glowing threateningly in orange. But below it, towering massively despite the distance, was an armored figure. There was no doubt in anybody's mind about who it was.

The figure saw the movement and turned to face them. Its face was uncovered, revealing it not to be a Human as its posture would suggest, but in fact a Forerunner, standing alive and well.

They had found the Didact, but awake and animate. Something was very wrong.

The Forerunner just stared for a second, making observation of who was entering his domain. He looked nothing like what they were expected to find - a regal face, thoughtful eyes, and a slim head. The man standing in front of them looked twisted. Thick teeth-turned-fangs draped from his mouth, and his wise eyes had sunken and had become amber orange from their cool silver before. His many-fingered hand was held out, grasping what appeared to be a man at cursory inspection, but upon closer look, the thinness and artificial look revealed it was a drone, but a very different one.

The Didact's pause gave way to pure rage as it saw what was coming in. More intruders. This time though he saw their faces, their posture, and hated them the very instant he had retrieved that buried memory. Before the Didact could move, Cortana had amplified the suit's speaker system, and in hurried Digon, the ancient language of the Warrior-Servants, pulled from ONI's xenoanthropological archives, shouted,

" _Shadow-of-Sundered-Star! We come on behalf of your wife and life-partner the Lifeshaper! First-Light-Weaves-Living-Song sends us to wake you. We seek your wisdom_!"

The sound came out as a long and guttural language not too unlike German, though there were completely different phonetics. It was not a beautiful language, and anyone who spoke it would seem confused by the pronunciation. It was utilitarian - straight to the point - and its first uttering in over a hundred millennia had caught the Forerunner completely by surprise. Unending eons of silence was shattered, first by the now-dead intruders that lay beneath him, and now by these...descendants of the hated ones. But a voice spoke to him in a way that he knew, and he could not react at first. He had suffered a strategic setback he had not anticipated. Enraged by this, that he had been taken off-guard not once but twice, he raised his hand, ready to send a blow towards his enemies. His platform had moved quickly to them, and he threw the robot to the floor. It rolled and skittered to a halt, and only moved in the slightest ways.

"Spread out! Here he comes!" Scott shouted.

"No!" John shouted. "Stay where you are!"

He closed hundreds of meters in seconds. Julie-Su let out an involuntary scream and hid behind Baulkner who crouched with weapon raised - a bolt of glowing hard-light that appeared in his hand like a trident. The glowing weapon sent sparks into space, and he raised it.

" _We seek your wisdom of the Prisoner_!" Cortana cried desperately.

The Forerunner stopped at once, platform freezing all of a sudden. He had heard her used the word, _Utin_. This was not the word for just any prisoner, but for the One. The All-Devourer. The Didact, only scant meters away, looked into space, his twisted mouth now opening and closing slowly as if searching for something to say.

" _Brace yourselves. I'm going to translate this as best I can_." Cortana advised quietly to the group.

The confusion manifest into anger again, as the Didact bared his teeth, his hair pricking up as the emotion spread through his face.

" _Humans..._ " his voice rang through the room - " _Ha_ manush _..._ " the untranslated and somewhat rolled word filling the space, "you dare come to this place. This place of places."

The Didact's voice was like ice, barely constrained fury dripping like acid from his sharpened teeth.

"You _dare_!" He screamed at once, making everyone short of John flinch, who proceeded to raise his weapon in defense. " _You dare to bring that name into this place! This place of rest and reconciliation! You have no right to speak those words! You make no demands of the Didact!_ "

He jumped from the platform straight to the floor, bracing ever so slightly.

"Stand your ground." John ordered in a low voice. "Stand..." he made an uncharacteristic gasp or surprise as he was lifted off his feet by the alien through no means that he could pinpoint.

"Long have I waited to grip your kind by the neck again, _Ha_ manune. Long have I waited to watch another Human bleed." he glanced at the corpses. "If you could call those... _men_."

"I think we're losing him!" Julie-Su said

"And this!" The Didact said in a mirthless laugh. "A retinue? Pets?" he gestured to Julie-Su, who flushed with visible anger. "Always like Humans to bring others ruthlessly to their heel. You have not changed one bit." he shook his head. "What purpose would such _lowly_ creatures have of my _wisdom_ of the _Utin_? How may I _be of service_?" he growled, speaking the last sentence in a mocking tone. " _Do you wish me to grovel at your feet too? Call thee 'master'? Give control of the Domain as well?_ "

" _The Prisoner seeks to escape. It wants freedom._ "

The Didact's face froze. He didn't comprehend the word _otjakt_ \- the open noun 'freedom', at first, or rather, he did not want to. His eyes broke contact with the Spartan in his invisible grip. The others made no move. Slowly, the Forerunner realized what it meant. Fear grew on his face, but he quickly suppressed it. "How come you by this knowledge?"

" _It's told us_." Cortana said.

"It... told...?" The Didact's heart began to beat quicker. The insanity of millennia was slowly fading, replaced by fear that sharpened his mind, sobering him to the harsh reality of the Prisoner, Utim, the All-Devourer, the creature that he had failed to slay a hundred thousand years ago, was forced to let sit smugly in its hole as its Prison greedily devoured his ships and Warrior-Servants. He had been forced to relive such a horrible memory in the space of that minute. His grip loosened and John clattered to the floor, energy shield sparking for a second. "You heard it?"

"One of us did, two years ago." Cortana said. "The Lifeshaper spoke to him in his mind. She told us where to find you. He... also mentioned you spoke to him too. An imprint. You counseled him."

Shadow-of-Sundered-Star found himself brought back to reality in an instant. He remembered making such an imprint. It was his essence, placed into devices of safe keeping in hopes that they would be found - messages of the Prisoner, warnings of what was to come. The memory of this suddenly broke something within the Didact. His gaze went to the floor, and his trident vanished in a flash. He stood in silence while guns were still pointed at him.

"Once..." he said at last. "I saw millions die... drawn into the maw to feed that abomination." he said in a soft voice despite his size. "I heard them scream in fear. I lost... so many Warriors for nothing. What you speak of is knowledge not known by any. You speak truth. Ancient truth." The Warrior stood strong. "The Didact lives to fight this evil anew!" He spoke confidently, his orange eyes now showing long-absent integrity and strength.

" _We are humbled before your presence and your wisdom as vast and as bright as the Glow._ " Cortana said. " _Kneel_." She whispered into the radio.

Confused, but quickly, they all got to one knee.

" _Will you aid us?_ "

The Forerunner glanced down at them, sizing them up and seeing then on their knees. "I would kill you where you stand, _ha_ manush..."

John grimaced, waiting for the inevitable strike.

The others felt anxiety too. Julie-Su had a thought of going for her shotgun.

" _..._ but _Utim_ cannot be allowed to call this world its own." He nodded. "For the sake of the souls who had died, not for the _ha_ manush." He turned and looked at the Cryptum where he once stood, and the bodies that lay around it. "Your luck is immeasurable this day Humans. The Didact's heart grows merciful to your pitiful fate. Long have I sought vengeance against the Librarian's pets. Today, it has been redirected. The Didact aids you!" He proclaimed "Aya!"

"Well look at that." Scott said breathlessly. "Looks like we just made a friend."

"You make no friends this day." The Didact said, addressing the agent directly. "You make an ally."

While they stared in amazement, the prone form of Scion, keeping perfectly still and feigning destruction, watched this unbeknownst to anyone. As he watched the exchange, an unexpected feeling of panic rose in his core. He immediately activated his ansible and sent a text message to his opposite numbers:

 _'We have a problem.'_


	11. Chapter 10: Primer

Chapter 10: Primer  
December 27th, 3241, 1100 hours  
Rogue Trader Vessel Fair Lady  
Unknown Space, EUS 1840

Captain Gregers Ekdal had not slept in over forty hours. He sat in the cell on what passed for a bed - a hard concrete slab with a thin mattress laid on top of it. There was no blanket, and a very crude toilet was shoved into the corner. There were no windows, clocks, or even bars to separate the inside of the cell from the outside. forty or so hours ago - he had forgotten - he had been escorted here from his own ship along with the rest of the bridge crew and had been marched through this otherworldly vessel. The sight was something to behold for the officer: a massive chamber that had to be hundreds of meters long was set in the center of it. It was lined with stone of all thing - light gray limestone-like blocks were fit together with brutal care on the floor and fine cut granite circled pillars of polished obsidian that stretched to a high vaulted ceiling with Gothic fixtures, all of the spaces ending with a point.

They were led single file by armed men, all of them chattering in their own language. They were a strange bunch that almost seemed familiar to them. They wore painted green armor over a rather light, if not padded flak jacket. In their hands were boxy weapons that seemed like assault rifles. Those weren't what bothered Ekdal though. The men were understandable enough, probably the ship's equivalent to Marines. What scared Ekdal though was a man who stood on an elevated platform almost like a pulpit that a priest used to address a crowd. He was draped in a red uniform with collars going up to his ears. The man's face was older, possibly sixty or so, and he had a thin frame that was concealed by his massive long-coat that covered a chest covered with medals, something that resembled an iron cross, and more than a few polished golden skulls. On his head was a cap, tall and peaked. He had come to expect this, but it had a massive skull on it. The way that the man barked in the language called Low Gothic and the way the men responded gave the impression that he was perhaps their captain? He certainly didn't seem to be the approachable type. The man with the peaked cap uttered a loud and long stream of words that sounded clipped but guttural.

"Stamsgat heem!" he shouted, his voice projected through unknown means. "Va'jhuk juk hollei!"

The words meant nothing to Ekdal, who thought it little more than babbling, but the soldiers fell in line. He quickly realized that he was commanding them to stand at attention for Departeu.

The Rogue Trader had walked next to Ekdal himself, huge handgun clasped behind his back in one hand. The man seemed positively smitten with himself, thin lips tightly pressed together in a smile, his springy steps making the feather in his cap bob. In any other situation, Departeu would be hilarious - a clown. However, as it seemed, he was very much to be taken seriously. Though his features showed a care-free expression, his eyes were darting all over the place, observing his ship. Occasionally he spotted Ekdal's gaze and gave him a knowing wink.

"Saldar Edlmach!" the man in the pulpit cried, his voice dripping with venom. "Pas not ferris!"

A split second later, a gunshot rang out down the corridor. Everyone except for the crew of the Fair Lady ducked and looked around. The staff of the ship couldn't help but laugh at them as if they had fallen for an obvious prank. Some shook their heads, wiping tears of mirth from their eyes. For the life of them, there couldn't be any idea as to why. Further down the massive cathedral-like hallway, a body lay sprawled. With horror, the crewmen of the Ontario noted that a large portion of his head was missing.

At the head of the group, Ekdal had been forced by the green-clad men through several doors while tall figures in robes watched them, many with disdain and many with curiosity. Occasionally, Ekdal would look around, taking in the sights and the sheer immensity of the space. How was something like this technologically feasible? The space he was in resembled St. Peter's Basilica, but that wouldn't be doing it justice. It was easily a kilometer in length, maybe more. A space this large would actually form clouds from humidity, but it was chilled, which made Ekdal all the more uncomfortable. While he was passing through the largest church he ever been in, his ship had been crudely moored alongside the Fair Lady, bound by docking cables as it was pulled towards the far larger vessel.

Up ahead was a gigantic carved statue of what appeared to be gleaming white marble. It was over a hundred feet high and exquisitely kept sparkling. Ekdal squinted. He saw something that looked like small drones humming around the statue that was now recognizing as a man clad in armor. A golden halo was placed around his head. The sword in his right hand raised towards the heavens added another twenty feet to the height of the effigy. He was in awe. Who was this man? It certainly wasn't God.

As he got closer, he noticed that the orb-like drones were more than just robots, but skulls. Honest to god skulls. What was the appeal of such gruesome imagery?

Several of the skulls that were scanning the statue or keeping it gleaming in practically an incandescent tone, broke away to survey the crowd. One came very close to Ekdal. Very close. It most definitely was a Human skull, with minor divots in the cranium, the tell-tale signs of fissures, and some vestiges of tendons where the muscles would have slid over the bone. Curiously, or morbidly, it was missing its jaw, which only further churned the nauseous feeling that was coming to fruition in the pit of his stomach. The first was joined by two more and they circled like macabre vultures, watching his every move. Cameras, antennae, and some sort of repulsor were jammed into the bone. Lenses focused, and lasers played over the captain's body. His composure took a blow, but amazingly he steadied himself, shuddering at the most.

There was a bark. The procession of crew from the _Ontario_ , _Bastogne_ , and _Colorado_ were halted in three long lines in front of the statue of this man, this obviously imperial figure of great worship. Their guards immediately took knees. Smartly, the three rows of crew, numbering only a few hundred each and barely stretching a tenth of the way across the hall, did as well. Ekdal didn't dare look around as he head immediate sounds of flesh being struck with a few people crying out in confusion, pain, and panic. He willed himself not to look back, but was plainly aware of what was being inflicted. He knew not if this was on his crew or the _Fair Lady_.

A figure rose up from the floor in a private lift, wearing an immaculate cloak stretching to the floor and beyond, trailing like a movie star attending an opening event. This man was ancient, with augmentations crossing his body, and half his skull being replaced by metal and tubing. On his head sat an impressive hat adding another two feet to the already tall figure. There was a groan and another figure came into the room. This one made the Captain's face slack with complete unknowing horror. A Human being, or what was left of one, shuffled into the cathedral from a massive doorway on sturdy, large, and thundering legs. Its face was obscured by a head-concealing coif with a single red light flaring from where the nose bridge would be. It had no arms, and instead pistons were connected to the shoulder joints. These pistons bent backwards to create a support, upon which was a massive tome that Ekdal couldn't even imagine the true mass of. The book had to have been nearly five feet across by almost seven high. dragged along by this tortured soul. Ekdal felt sick watching this creature hobble along, an animalistic grunt distorted by a flange escaped where its mouth would be, but it continued walking. It was out of proportion - its arms being far too long, and its head too small. Despite being bare-chested and covered with the wax seals Departeu had worn on their first meeting, Ekdal could not tell if the... thing was male or female, only that it had once been Human.

The thing issued groans as if the weight was too much for it, and its mouth hung open, tongue waving loosely. It kept on looking forward until it stopped in the very center of the chamber. It lowered itself to the ground on its knees. Ekdal noticed for the first time that a strip of metal had been bolted to the front of the thing's legs, terminating in pads that covered the kneecap itself. The creature did not move any further.

Ekdal couldn't stop staring at it. It was the single most horrifying thing that he had ever seen. What sane civilization could do such a thing to a person? Its head was motionless and its long arms were splayed out, acting as supports. The illusion that this was an enlightened society vanished in a flash.

* * *

Further behind Ekdal, Miles was fighting a rolling sensation in his head. He made sure not to let it show as he forced himself to look forward. Naval personnel around him were at various stages of disbelief, disgust, and horror. He knew that somewhere in the mass of Humanity that his friends were just as scared. He was too preoccupied with this new feeling to notice that the man in the tall hat had come to where the book and the thing holding it came to a stop. He uttered something in this strange Latin-sound-a-like language and took the stand, thumbing through the book, incense trailing from the bauble on his hip. He raised his hands and began to call to the skies.

More of these skulls came around, scanning the crowd, analyzing their every feature and every emotion. Red lasers danced from one man to the other, who began to notice the cranium and react in appropriate ways.

Miles felt something enter into his mind - another image. Which one was this? An ocean with the sun rising over it. He knew it immediately as 'peace'.

So someone was fine? That was good to hear. That gunshot a few minutes back didn't elicit the same response. He was not aware of whether it was a member of this ship's crew or the his own that had their life cut short in this new world. He did not want to know.

An image of a face. This one he realized immediately was Jolee's. The old man was fine. Through a series of images, Miles approximated meaning and speech associated with it.

"Be quiet; don't respond to anything." Jolee had spoken through images.

"This is wrong." Miles responded, also through iconography.

"I know. But all the same, we can't stand out."

"What are these feelings in my head?"

"They're doing the same thing we are - speaking. We're picking them up as interference."

Miles took a deep breath. "Jolee, has anything like this ever happened in your home universe?"

An image of a nondescript man shaking his head. "Not like this, kid. Not even close."

There was a flash, a face. Together they went silent and spoke no more.

The man in the hat continued to call and crow, his aged face lining with ferocity as he preached from the macabre pulpit. Miles stole a glance to his side and saw one of the Humans of this crew - the one wearing the emerald green armor with white writing. He was tall, and the helmet he wore was bulbous and to a degree looked protective. He stared a little longer when he saw the reaction on the man's face.

This man was staring straight at the pulpit with incredible concentration in his eyes. His face was wet, not with sweat, but with tears. Two long and thick lines of tears came from the man's eyes and dripped from his chin. He didn't move to wipe them.

Miles looked just behind this man and saw another one of similar height, but paler complexion. He too was weeping freely. This man was nodding quickly with everything this preacher said. His lips parted for a second before nodding again, a small smile beginning to spread on his face. He closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

These men were not crying because they were sad, but because they were happy.

* * *

The preacher raised both his hands and cried out a line of prayer, turning to face the statue of the massive armored man. The skulls drew away, glowing from their eye-holes and lining themselves up behind the pulpit. The priest began to shift his tone to that of song. Quickly, his head whipped around, one hand clutching the railing for support while the other reached out to the men, his eyes wide and mouth racing, as if reciting a passage from the book. The cyborg in holding up the massive tome flipped the large page with what looked like a small arm built into its back for this very purpose.

The priest raised his hands and droned a line in what sounded vaguely like a Christian hymn that Ekdal recognized from his youth in Norway, and a few parts were in the pseudo-Latin that he had heard earlier. He didn't have his Interpreter though; the translator would have been massively useful as some words were completely different, and the language didn't follow any linguistic mores of ancient tongue. The verbs were in the wrong place, and excessive liberties had been taken with the grammar. Ekdal absentmindedly wondered how language had diverged, or even what relative time frame they were in. They were Human, but even that seemed a bit of a stretch if all of these cyborgs were an indication.

The priest sang the line and the men around him repeated it.

"Avg vaag xjuun!" the priest called.

"Avg vaag xjuun!" the soldiers called out.

"Ave Imperator, ave Terra!"

The crowd chanted, "Ave Imperator, ave Terra!"

That part needed no translation. Imperator. Empire. Emperor. Terra - the Earth. Ekdal fit the pieces together easily enough. This person that was given this statue. He was an Emperor of some sort - a ruling government figure, and it seemed like a religion gave some sort of praise to him. Ekdal understood this, but couldn't grasp the details. Their gracious host though would answer a lot of their questions though and no doubt he would get some face-time with him eventually.

The soldiers bowed their heads, took their hands, and crossed them across their chests, thumbs extended outwards. Ekdal noted that this gesture very closely resembled the image of the two-headed bird that was on the banners. State religion, where the organization itself was worshiped?

Though wary to begin with, Ekdal's color continued to drain.

The soldiers once again raised their heads and began to move. The column of the personnel from the three UNSC ships were herded forward, led along by a box of guards, with the exception of Ekdal, who had been singled out from all of them. His shoulders were grabbed violently and he was jerked out of the line by a rather large specimen of the green-armored men. He was thrown to the ground where his eyes met the boots of the rather odd bird that claimed to be the captain of the ship. He looked up to see the man smiling in a rather warm way. Despite the language barrier, Departeu curled his finger upwards and he obeyed. The soldier yanking him back to his feet didn't help.

Departeu muttered something to the soldier who made the hand sign again and turned on his heel.

* * *

From there, he had ended up in this cell, with the man sitting across from him, sitting on a rather fancy chair that had been brought into the cell by one of his officers. The chair was well-carved out of a dark brown wood. It had gold gilding and a bright red cushion. Departeu took his time sitting down. Two more men walked in, one carrying a small side table cut from the same type of wood. On the table top, a carved skull grinned at the ceiling. The same man who placed the table down placed an embroidered cloth on it, and the second produced a bottle of what Ekdal assumed was wine. He showed the bottle to Departeu who smiled, said, "Ah!", and told him to place it on the table. The man, who Ekdal noticed was wearing a few steps above rags, though on par with what Gregers recognized as clothes that wouldn't be out of place on an 18th Century war galleon. He hadn't a clue what was going on.

Just then, Departeu looked as if he was thinking of something just as the man, who was almost certainly a servant, Ekdal thought, but then recalled, laughing to himself and reached into his pocket, pulling out what he had taken almost two days prior - Ekdal's Interpreter. He reached out and threw it to the captain, who caught it deftly in his left hand, staring down at it.

Departeu looked at the wine, breathed in, and exhaled longingly, looking at Ekdal and bobbing his eyebrows, smiling in a way that finally made Ekdal think that this man wasn't all there in the head. The odd man pointed to his ear, miming that Ekdal put on the device. The captain did so, hooking the Interpreter in his ear. The device should still be coded to English. He would have preferred to speak his native Norwegian, but realized that Augustus probably had not translated this speech, Gothic, into other standard languages. He cleared his throat and spoke the words that were suggested for greetings.

"Hello", he said, trying to mimic the words that the Interpreter represented in standard phonetics.

"Good morning, sir! I can see you're taking to the accommodations well!"

Departeu on the other hand spoke quickly and without hesitation. He didn't need to worry about trying to speak Ekdal's language. If only he had another translator.

"The bed straightens out my back."

"Excellent. That means we won't have to move you to a better room."

The wine was poured into Departeu's glass. This was going to be a slow conversation without a common linguistic ground. The language that the odd man spoke in appeared to have only the barest of connections with Standard English, and even then there was bound to be some drift.

"You know," Departeu said lifting the wine cup, a wide brimmed goblet with a spiraling stem. "I've had that thing now for a few days. I've had Servaus try to look over it, and he can't seem to even begin to understand how it works."

"Servaus?"

"My tech-priest. You saw him earlier."

"Uh..." Ekdal said, starting to trail off.

"Oh come now." Departeu said, lowering the grass. "You must know what that is."

Ekdal shook his head. "We've never seen one of those before. We don't have those."

Departeu's head jerked back, as if encountering a bad smell. "Well how do you keep your ships running?"

"Engineers."

"You mean engineseers."

"No."

An exasperated sigh escaped the Rogue Trader, who growled in frustration. "You're making this rather difficult you know. However, you are right; we've searched your ship from top to bottom and we have not found any. Quite curious really. Heretical to be honest; a machine can't work without those chaps blessing them. Emperor himself knows how we ever got on without them."

Ekdal said nothing, unsure how to respond. Departeu reached to pick up the glass again, indicating the translator hooked on Ekdal's ear.

"That's a rather interesting device you know. Like much of your technology, we can't figure out how it works. Your cogitators don't appear to operate like ours either. My techpriests had a look at them, and even my explorator had difficulty getting past the initial coding, but when he did, he was quite impressed." He took a sip. "What was the word that he used to describe it?"

"Ancient." a warbling voice began to speak. The door opened up, and a man walked in, though Ekdal's skin immediately crawled at the sight. The new arrival was dressed in rusty red robes, with a hood placed over his head. His arms were folded into his robes, but mounted on his back, several metallic arms sprouted up and over his shoulders, many of them jittering, as if looking for something to grab. His face was familiar, with two strikingly blue eyes, a lined face, and a crooked nose, but around his neck, two cables snaked into his skin, meeting around where his voice box would have been, which was the source of his robotic tone.

"Absolutely ancient." the man, who Gregers guessed was Servaus, spoke, standing next to Departeu. Heavy metal footfalls sounded as he slowly walked into place. Something about him seemed artificial, like he was a robot, but the eyes were too Human for that to be a possibility. "In all my years, I have never seen such technology intact and in operation." Servaus said. "Rogue Trader, I would wish to disclose the findings of the voidships in detail."

Departeu looked ecstatic and raised his glass as a signal to continue.

"The vessels have been scanned both by adepts and by a contingent of servo-skulls to uncover anything of note. It has taken nearly twenty two hours to achieve an acceptable level of information intake. We have also disassembled several of the cogitators aboard the vessel."

Ekdal's head shook. "Hold on now, what?"

"Results?" Departeu asked.

"Inconclusive, but the initial results are... rather odd."

The Rogue Trader took another sip of his wine, appearing to have lost all knowledge of Ekdal's existence in favor to this tech-priest as he was called. "Well now I'm interested. Please go ahead and explain what's so odd, Gregorias."

Servaus did not hold back. "The initial view is that this is indeed ancient technology. That much is clear as it is less sophisticated than any of our cogitator patterns or machine code."

"Not unusual. Perhaps they're from a primitive world that barely grasps what an interface is."

"This is not the case." Servaus said simply. "This technology does not match anything exactly from any STC recovered by the Mechanicus, but there are indications that their technology... links in some way."

"Links?" Departeu said, now confused himself. "Gregorias, by the Throne, what does that mean exactly?"

"I will try not to over-complicate for a mind so unaugmented as your own so you may understand." Servaus said, rolling his eyes.

"I would much like that." Departeu said with a brilliant smile, very much aware of the sarcasm thrown his way.

"Much more insight is required, but the theory that I am subscribing to is that the machines are older than the Imperium itself."

At first, Departeu nearly spat out his wine, laughing like a madman, rising to his feet and clapping Servaus on the shoulder several times. He laughed some more, wiping a tear from his eye and taking another longer drink, looking in the now empty glass, and signaling that he wanted a refill to one of his servants.

"Gregorias!" Departeu asked, still snickering, "It's too early in the day and I'm not drunk enough for jokes! You mean to tell me that these ships are... four thousand years old?"

"five, Rogue Trader. They would need to be nearly five, if not longer."

"Even more ridiculous! Predating the Great Crusade? By the Emperor, that would mean that this ship dates to Old Night!"

"Precisely." Servaus said, crossing his arms with finality.

Departeu ogled at the man, facial features now softening. His eyes darted back and forth, and now thoroughly confused, took a drink of the now-filled glass as a defense mechanism.

"So it is from Old Night." he finally said.

"If not the Dark Age."

"I can't believe it."

Servaus' eyebrows bobbed, and for the first time, Ekdal, who was silent on the bed, noticed him smile.

"Are you saying that the instruments touched by the Omnissiah-who-is-the-Emperor, could potentially be wrong?" he hummed.

Departeu made a show of whipping his head around. "Oh, don't start this, please; we have guests."

"I could report you for your lack of faith to the Inquisition."

"Oh, grand! Remind me who doesn't think the flesh is weak? Hmm?"

Ekdal was lost at Old Night. "Can I say something?"

"Shush." Departeu said, holding up a finger without even looking at the captain. "We work so well together, Gregorias."

A few of the robotic talons chirped as they moved, and the hooded man managed a wry smile. "Indeed we do. In addition," he said, now focusing back on the original topic, gesturing to Ekdal, "the initial scan revealed that the ship did not possess a Gellar Field, nor a Warp Drive, instead fitted with a device that appears to function as some sort of reactor."

"A Slipspace drive." Ekdal cut in quickly to avoid being shushed again.

Departeu and Servaus looked at him, somewhat confused. Ekdal didn't understand that the word was untranslatable into whatever dialect of Gothic these men were speaking, so the word simply rendered as 'Slipspace' in Standard English.

"What does that mean?" Departeu asked. "That word you just said?"

"It's how we go faster than light." Ekdal sighed, realizing he would have to explain every single aspect of their world to these two men, who may as well be aliens for all it mattered in the end.

Servaus however seemed amused and intrigued, as if a sort of child-like curiosity had awoken in him, which seemed like a remarkably Human expression given how much metal was inserted into his body. He came just a little closer and looked at his friend. "Pre-Dark Age technology! The ancient past! The ancients were able to cross the stars before the Warp Drive! This may be a profitable discovery for the both of us, Rogue Trader."

Ekdal stopped him though, "We're not from around here."

The idiom did not translate well, but it was understood well enough. Departeu cocked his head inquisitively while Servaus waited for an answer. "Go on." The tech-priest insisted.

There was no easy way to explain this, but he had been threatened earlier by the same man who was offering what was debatably respite. He chose not to beat around the bush, and realized just how silly this was going to sound. He folded his arms and said, "We come from another world. Not yours; a parallel world separated by dimensions."

Servaus drew his head back. "What?" He simply said in such a short burst that it sounded like static.

"Another universe." Ekdal said again.

"Grox shite." Departeu said, laughing and retrieving his glass. "Trying to manipulate my mind like that?" He wagged a finger and clicked his tongue in a chiding manner, "Naughty naughty!" He took a sip of the liquid, dropped it, and then his face assumed a rather dark change that put the UNSC captain at unease. "How about being honest? You are from a world that was passed over by the Great Crusade in one form or another. Primitive technology would explain this."

"It's the truth!" Ekdal protested, standing up now suddenly angry. "We need your help!"

Departeu pulled the gun from his hip holster again, holding it at waist height and pointed it at Ekdal's chest. He held the gigantic pistol in one hand and his wine in the other. "Raise your voice against me like that again and I'll show you how helpful I can get. Sit."

The captain slowly sunk down to the bed again, glaring at his dubious host.

"Why would you need my help? I should strip your ships for parts and send them to the Forges of Mars and keep you here in the bilges unstopping the pipes until you waste away."

"Because you seem to have resources."

"Mmm, you're not wrong there, chap." Departeu hummed as he sipped his wine. "Do continue. Entertain me with this elaborate story before I paint the walls with this." He shook his gun.

"We came to save our people. They're threatened by something called The Prisoner."

"Oh how horrible." The man said with feigned pity.

"Our world detected great power in yours that could help us."

Departeu said, "Half correct. There is power, but don't mistake it for aid."

Ekdal realized that an ace had slid into his hand. "This device may be valuable to us, but mostly to you."

The Rogue Trader's eyebrow bobbed all of a sudden, "Indeed?"

"You mentioned something called an STC? What is that?"

"Standard Template Construct." Servaus recited. Ekdal noted that the pronunciation of these words sounded similar to English. "A tool of the ancients to create great wonders; miracles of the Machine God."

"It may have been related to this for all we know."

Servaus suddenly looked at his partner. "This changes things."

"Indeed it does." Departeu nodded. "An STC..."

"It may not be what they say!" the tech-priest said cautiously.

"But what if it is...?" Departeu whispered. "Blast it, I'm in an emotional centrifuge. See..." he addressed Ekdal, "I want to kill you for wasting my time, but I want you alive now because I might get rich. You're putting me in an odd position. If what you're looking for is an STC, your precious little brain is worth more to me than this ship."

"We don't want money, we just want knowledge."

"And we guard it." Servaus droned. "You intend to take this with you?"

"We don't even know what 'this' even is. It might be this STC thing, a book, a scroll, or hell, maybe a gigantic magical rock. We've come across plenty of those lately." he shook his head, resting his arms on his knees. "Could we speak to your government? Maybe coordinate our efforts?"

Departeu suddenly broke out laughing again, this time to a degree that looked utterly ridiculous. He removed his wide-brimmed hat, ran his hands through his pulled back hair, replaced the hat, and wiped a tear from his eye. "I'm sorry!" Departeu said. "I'm sorry, your bauble must be broken - I thought you said 'government', and then the word 'coordinate' right after!"

He trailed off into a series of uncontrolled giggles. He tried to take a sip of wine, but snorted it up his nose and coughed, nevertheless continuing to look amused. Even the stoic tech-priest gave a small bray, as if they were just reminded of an inside joke.

"Gregorias, I think I halfway believe them now! Ignorance like this is hard to come by! Either they're heretics, or telling the truth! Alright, captain, I will play along now. You are from another world then."

"If you want me to prove it further I have evidence. I assume this is the future? What year is it?"

Servaus said it at once, "556.440.M35."

"What does that mean?" Ekdal asked, confused yet again.

Servaus changed his voice once more, taking on the tone of explaining an obvious fact of the universe, like Ekdal was a toddler, even offering a mocking smile in a way. "We are in the four hundredth and fortieth year of the thirty fifth millennium."

That was unexpected. Ekdal had expected to move around in time going between universes of course, Mobius was separated by 12,000 years relative to Earth, but this was a far larger jump, and he felt surprisingly homesick when he realized it.

"So..." he rubbed his temple. "The year 34,440."

"You use it so crudely." Servaus said. "But correct."

"Let me explain it your way..." He said, clearing his throat. "We are from 241.M4. I don't know what that first number means."

Servaus and Departeu were fixated on one another. The man sitting in front of them was so sure of what he was saying. True, this Ekdal person could have been someone who had been stuck in the Warp for thousands of years, just as an older and far more dangerous foe once was, from their perspective only believing it to be a day or so, but then there was the fact that the ships had no trace of a warp core, no trace of a Gellar Field, and when the head astropath had tried to communicate with those of the ships, they had received only tentative responses, as if they were untrained or barely aware of their own gifts.

The clincher was that three ships were in deep space, far from a star system, and three of them were practically right next to one another, and none of them bore a design that Departeu, a man that had explored thousands of star systems in his time at the helm, had never seen before, and the inscriptions aboard, Servaus knew, was written on only a few very rare, and very holy items.

"I can prove it." Ekdal pressed. "Let me go back to my ship."

"Why?" Departeu said, leveling the pistol as he rose once more to meet this very strange captain.

"Because I will give your science officer-"

"Explorator Magos." Servaus corrected him quickly.

"Right, I'll give him access to our astronomical charts. Stars drift over time, right? Compare those to your star maps today, or your pulsar maps, and that way you'll know we're not from your time, or your universe. We don't mean you harm, captain. We need your help. You can help save our world."

Departeu sighed deeply, his flamboyant exterior dropping and showing a more thoughtful side. He took another sip, slipped the gigantic handgun into his holster, and made a small forlorn noise as he saw his glass was empty.

"You said you were looking for something powerful?"

"Yes." Ekdal responded.

"A weapon?"

"Maybe only a power source."

"We find it, and you let us take it?"

"Minus what we need for ourselves. We have no fleet to back us up."

Departeu clacked his jaw three times, thought, and then said, "Servaus, would you care to accompany the good captain back to his ship and see what he has to show you?"

The cyborg nodded. "I will attend with great enthusiasm, provided this is genuine."

"You haven't taken apart our star charts?" Ekdal asked.

"I cannot speak for the others under my command." was the flat answer.

* * *

Twenty five minutes later, Gregers was aboard the bird-like shuttle as he headed back towards the Ontario, sitting strapped into one of the back seats with Servaus standing in front of him, pacing and consulting a small slate in his hand that projected symbols. He could make out binary scrolling across the screen and was reminded of the fact that Augustus was still undercover somewhere within the ship's circuitry. He had not been confronted about it, but he wondered how the AI was faring.

The ship was empty, save for a few of what Servaus referred to as 'adepts' prowling around the hallways. During the trip, he asked what exactly they were doing on the vessel. The Magos had responded, "sanctifying."

Ekdal didn't even begin to think about what this meant until the shuttle had touched down in the landing bay. Four more robed men surrounded the craft and began to wave incense burners, one hand up as if blessing the craft. For all Ekdal knew, this was exactly what they were doing.

"You will lead me to your map room." Servaus ordered. Ekdal got up at the same time as the other man in the craft, a tall well built man dressed in the green armor he saw before. His flak armor couldn't quite disguise the fact that he was clearly not happy to be there. He grunted, which Ekdal's translator responded as 'move'.

He saw the man's weapon - a long, boxy rifle with a fluted barrel and a scope clamped on to the top. It didn't seem like much, but Ekdal was certain that one wrong move and he would be killed. He did as the man ordered and stepped out of the craft back onto his ship. He felt strangely happy to be back, despite being at gunpoint. He had marched back through the basilica-like spaces of the Fair Lady, and had come to the conclusion that massive spaces like that didn't belong on a ship. It violated all common sense, and yet here he was.

As he walked through the hallway, deviating to better find the lift to the command deck, he thought about the year again. 34,000... No, M35, like they said.

Thirty one thousand years. He immediately felt sick again contemplating the number, thinking of his home. He knew that across Existence, his own time and place was calm and content in living, but here, he easily forgot that fact and thought he would never go back.

He found the lift. "Here we are." he said to his guests. Servaus had to duck slightly to get into the elevator, though the soldier behind him easily stepped in, weapon cautiously drawn towards Ekdal, who found a button and pressed it. The door closed and the car began to move.

"Tell me, Captain," Servaus asked. "Do you take your machines for granted?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your lack of faith would upset many in the priesthood, for the carelessness of men towards that which serves has led to downfall in the past."

"You're asking if I trust this elevator?"

"I will need to compensate for your ignorance." he said, closing his eyes.

Ekdal was about to respond when a burst of static emerged from the implants in Servaus' throat. Ekdal jumped at the noise in such a small space. The soldier next to the Magos had his eyes closed as well and his head bowed.

The sound could be most likened to that of Morse Code, but Ekdal could swear that it was binary of some sort. When Servaus opened his eyes again, the noise stopped.

"What the hell was that?" Ekdal asked.

The soldier raised his weapon, ready to shoot, but Servaus lifted his hand to stop him. "Prayer for safe passage. You are not of the Cult Mechanicus, Captain Ekdal, but do try to remember that machine serves man, but man gives thanks to the machine for doing so."

"We... don't pray when using an elevator."

"How primitive. How could you have ever gotten anything done in your own world? Your blaspheming has been overlooked because of our... special circumstances. Give thanks to the Omnissiah more of my... orthodox colleagues had not found you instead."

The door opened onto the command deck. The soldier prodded Ekdal in the back, forcing him out of the elevator into one of the command ante-compartments that led to the bridge. Empty chairs sat on both sides of the room, though the spaces in between had more of the robed figures waving burners, as well as whistling and clicking in their off-putting language. Ekdal noted that one passed his hands over a panel, though his fingers had split in many places, jittering like dozens of snakes stapled to each appendage. He felt a chill shoot up his spine.

"Salve." One hummed, like a synthesizer when Servaus passed close.

"Salve, frayta." the Magos responded, immediately conversing in the static bursts with the man. It was quite off-putting seeing Servaus speaking with his mouth clamped shut, letting the device on his neck do the speaking for him. The shorter one, hunched over, back burdened with electronic equipment, gestured to the bank of communications consoles with the hand of wires, jerking his head around.

Servaus looked back to Ekdal and said, "There is a complication, Captain."

"What's the problem?" Ekdal asked.

"These machines are proving rather ineffective to us. It seems their machine-spirits are rather reluctant, despite the enginseer's efforts, full access has not been granted."

Ekdal could guess why, but decided to feed a half-truth, thinking of Augustus. "In emergencies, our systems automatically lock down. I can disengage the safeties with a command override. Our systems are likely not compatible with your... methods."

Servaus seemed to wear a look of disdain for only a split second, but then said, "Very well, Captain. I await your input."

A few of the tech-priests gathered around, suddenly interested. Ekdal met three eyes, four, and in one case a single wrapping band around as the cyborgs watched his move. The soldier still had his gun trained on Ekdal.

Gregers leaned forward over the nav-panel and found a hand-print activation panel for such an occasion when a shipboard AI locked down all functions. The hologram immediately called up an HUI which allowed Ekdal to pick the option to unlock the console using his command implants.

"Ekdal, Gregers, Service Number 91411-77901-GE, override code Epsilon-One-One-Two-Echo. I willingly authorize full access to all navigational systems. Please Confirm."

"Confirmed." the voice of Augustus said over the intercom. "Welcome back, Captain."

The table lit up, with holograms melting into existence. The priests began to buzz around him, and if Ekdal didn't know any better, he thought they were excited. Servaus however inclined his head, and wore a look of approval.

Ekdal thumbed through the HUI, enjoying being in control of his own systems again. He took his cap off and rubbed his scalp, unaware that he had been sweating a bit more than usual.

"The star maps?" Servaus asked.

"Yeah, getting them now." he said.

The soldier looked at the map with intense interest, lowering the gun in his hands.

Ekdal tried to navigate his way to a pulsar map. If anything, this would be an absolute means of proving themselves as the neutron stars would have drifted over time. Assuming of course that the stars were in the same place. He did not consider that the stars would possibly have different timing, instead banking on the difference of difference between his existence and Servaus'.

However, Servaus stopped him, looking around the table and seeing something that caught his eye.

"What is this?" He said, quickly looking at an icon over the galaxy map. "This symbol?"

Ekdal saw what he meant. It was a simple symbol, a circle with a dot in the middle, the universal symbol of the star Sol.

"Our home system."

"Open it." Servaus said, his eyes now focused. "Quickly."

"Right, sure." the captain nodded, hovering his finger on the symbol, which quickly zoomed in to a system with eight main planets, and numerous dwarf worlds. A single small belt hovered in the middle.

Servaus reached in to the hologram, a finger slowly hovering towards the fourth small holographic orb. A small symbol hovered next to it.

"Mars." Servaus breathed, slowly mesmerized, the word for this world still the same, even after eons. "Please open this."

Ekdal did as he wanted, hovering his finger over the planet, which ballooned up to a massive size. The world of Mars was covered in red, but also with browns, greens, and a large amount of blue.

The priests were silent, none of them daring to speak as they took in the sight of the planet. Servaus' mouth hung slightly open and his eyes blinked quickly. It seemed as if he was going to cry, but he mastered himself. Instead, he tried to find words. At last he finally said, "It's so blue."

"It's better in person." Ekdal said. "Especially Olympus Mons."

"Before the great Forges." the tech-priest said in a low voice. "Before the cities. I was born right here." he pointed to the region Ekdal knew as the Schiaparelli Lowlands. "I know these craters. I know these rivers."

"Would you like to see Earth?"

"No. You need convince me no further. I will signal my trust to Departeu. This Guardsman will see you back to the ship."

"Are you coming?"

The tech-priest nodded. "I would have a... few minutes here."

"Right." Ekdal nodded, moving out of the room with the soldier in tow behind him.

Servaus, looked at the map of Mars while the enginseers behind him chattered in excitement. He said nothing though, looking the land over. Before the forges, before the Ring of Iron, before the land began to dry once more. An unorthodox thought entered his brain: what a beautiful planet his ancestors had thrown away.

At that point, as he traced the orbits of Phobos and even Deimos across the holographic sky, he wished he could see the forests of Mars and feel the rain on his skin, just like in the legends. He had a passing thought about why Deimos was in orbit around Mars, but then remembered he was staring into the past.

But who's past exactly? Their own? One that was the future for these visitors, or another entirely?

'We're not from around here,' Ekdal had said.

Despite these thoughts, he bowed his head, and whispered his thanks to the Omnissiah for granting him this vision.


	12. Chapter 11: Touched by Angels

Chapter 11: Touched by Angels  
December 31st, 3241, 0400 hours  
Rogue Trader Vessel Fair Lady  
Unknown Deck Prison Cell  
EUS 1840

Miles Prower rubbed his chin to feel the bristles of stubble poking up through the rest of his fur, and for a moment, he wondered just how interesting it was to have two entirely different sets of hair growing on his body.

He had time to have such nonconstructive thoughts as he was sitting in a cell that measured roughly twenty feet by twenty feet with only the most basic furnishings, most notably a bed and a bucket. He had forced himself not to use it, but knew it was inevitable. Not like it mattered anyway since the cell itself smelled of such decay, no doubt from its previous inhabitant or perhaps inhabitants, that it couldn't get any worse, and in any case he was alone. They had made sure he was set apart from the others. Several days ago, according to his watch, they had been split up and presumably all been placed in cells like these. The man, who Miles overheard was named Departeu, had come by to check on all of them once. He came into Miles' cell approximately a day ago with one heavily ringed finger holding a similarly heavily jewel-studded cane. He had no less than five guards backing him up.

Departeu looked Miles over, gesturing him to stand up. Miles had done so as he was afraid he would either be shot or whipped with the wooden stick, but he doubted the latter would happen - the cane was far too nice to be damaged on a cranium like his.

The man had paced around him, speaking in a language that sounded alien to his ears with no connection to his mother tongue to speak of. He could swear he could pick out perhaps a stubborn word or two that had worn out eons in the same way that some had survived since the days of Beowulf, but then the similarities were lost.

The words were guttural like German, snappy like Chinese, or perhaps Korean, but there was just enough phlegm that it brought to mind something Semitic, perhaps even older? Sumerian?

His thoughts were interrupted when Departeu came close to him, so close that Miles could see every groomed hair on his face, and he could smell the wafting and intoxicating cologne that radiated so much that his keen sense of smell almost overloaded. All the while, Miles did not move, and stared ahead like a good sailor.

Departeu made a sort of clicking noise with his tongue and looked even more, tracing the line of his snout with his hands, analyze his twin tails that stood just as much at attention as he did, and he even dared to flick one of his ears, making an approving sound while nodding his head.

Still, Miles made no effort to speak. This man could have his fun. He had no doubt that the way that he was poring over him suggested that those of Miles' kind were not present in his world. Suddenly, Departeu snapped his fingers to get his attention. Miles broke his stare and made eye contact. Something then seemed to lighten in the man's gaze, though it was clear he was the eccentric sort. He stared Miles down, though the latter blinked comfortably and took regular breaths, treating this like an inspection, knowing though at any minute his life could be burned away at the drop of a hand.

When Ekdal started to raise his hand, Miles took a sharp intake of breath, but Ekdal held his arm up at shoulder height, and then made a gesture of his hand for Miles to do the same.

Prower was confused by this, but did as Departeu asked, holding his arm up. The man took his own fingers and felt along the fox's lower arm. Miles felt confusion, but let the man continue his action, as he traveled to the fingers, then the thumb. He located the main artery in Miles' arm and then, seemingly satisfied, stepped back. He made another gesture and Miles guessed that this meant that he could lower his arm, which Departeu did not move to stop.

The man gave a half-smile, and then reached into one of his many pockets, and retrieved what Miles recognized instantly to be a UNSC Interpreter. Departeu held out his hand, palm open and facing up, waiting for Prower to grab it, which he did and fit it around his ear as best he could. He waited for the device to activate, but did not speak first.

"Can you hear me fine now?" The digitized, but similar sounding from the device said, hearing and translating Departeu's voice.

"Yes." Miles said, answering with the suggestions offered by the device.

"Could you please identify yourself?"

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Miles Prower."

"You are an officer?"

"Yes, aboard the Ontario."

"Serving under Captain Ekdal?"

"That's correct." Miles said with the slight narrowing of eyes. "You've already met the Captain?"

"He and I have had extensive conversation over the last few days. I have been bringing him up to speed on the situation, and he, likewise, has been informing me of the most delicious information regarding you and your colleagues. I actually am speaking to you on his recommendation."

Miles was rather taken aback by this, and he tried to think of a way to respond. His mouth opened and closed once, twice, and by the third time, he asked in a rather low voice, "Why?"

"Your intellect. By his admission, you are but a lad, assuming you abhumans age like the rest of us. How old did he say you were? Nineteen? Twenty? In any case it is irrelevant on how old you are, because the age of your mind easily reaches to that comparable to an adept."

Miles had absolutely no idea what this man was talking about, but he thought better of retorting or offering any sort of response until proffered to do so. The way that this man moved around seemed to give the impression that he wasn't quite there. The feeling was just slight enough to give him a slight tingle, His fur seemed to subconsciously puff out at the thought, which thankfully, most of his uniform hid.

"So, what this means to me..." Departeu continued, waving his hand in an intricate circle, as if tracing some sort of design in space, "... is that I think you will enjoy the finer points of realizing your current situation and how our time together will... evolve."

There was still something that he didn't trust about this man. He watched him stand there but blinked neutrally, as if he wasn't giving any sort of emotional response. The truth was that he was slowly becoming more distressed the longer Departeu continued, and noticing the gigantic handgun that was on the man's hip was not comforting. The barrel seemed to be more than half an inch across, maybe putting the weapon somewhere around .60 caliber if not larger.

"So, Mister Prower, I will ask you one question and one question only. I expect you to give me a straight answer, or I will be making some rather unfortunate and spontaneous calls in a moment. As you are on my ship, you are also at my mercy."

Departeu stopped pacing and came close to Miles, staring down at him, his wide-brimmed hat casting a dark shadow against his eyes. In the lighting of the cell, it appeared as if half the man's face had fallen into a void, with the twinkle of a reflection being the only indication he had eyes at all.

"I ask you this: will you walk with me?"

Miles blinked, and his ears sunk slightly in confusion. "Excuse me?" he asked, not sure if he had heard that correctly.

"I am on my way back to the bridge, and I desire some company aside from these fine gentlemen. I ask you again... will you walk with me?"

His voice was bizarre in that moment, varying from cheery, content, and then suddenly with a sting of icy penetration that unnerved the young fox.

He had no choice of course, no choice unless he wished to die. He nodded slowly, hoping that in this world it meant an affirmative gesture.

"Splendid!" Derparteu cried in amusement. "Splendid indeed! Now, come-come, my dear Lieutenant, we have much ground to cover, and I have an inexhaustible number of questions, and you will answer every one!"

The way that the man spoke as if he were a child going to the zoo only served to deepen the unease. Miles quickly formed two opinions on the matter. The first was that Departeu was positively mad and had no control over his feelings, and the second was that he was perfectly sane and used an insidious variation of emotional states that served to confuse his audience, forcing them to comply at the risk of their brains overloading.

Another flash in his cerebrum. Two black silhouettes strolling one after the other. A simple enough message. He waited for an affirmation that this was Jolee, urging him to follow, but he found no additional message. Someone was watching him and it was someone from this crew. How was that possible? He saw no cameras on the walls of his cell - it looked like an empty room that was hastily made to be a prison.

"Mister Prower! I would be off!" Departeu smiled, one hand brushing the grip of his weapon. Whether it was a slip of the wrist or intentional was not something he wanted to contemplate.

The guards had their weapons raised just high enough not to actually target him, but at this range, Tails know, they wouldn't need to aim. He nodded, and slowly stepped towards Departeu. "OK." was all he said.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Depearteu said waving a finger. "As a precaution of course..."

Miles found his wrists seized before he could respond. They were forced behind his back in a flash by one of the green armored soldiers and were locked in place by strong cuffs. The men uttered something in their own language that remained untranslated by the device on his ear. They seemed to find this whole thing amusing. The Mobian thought, frightened, whether he had made a mistake, and whether they would shoot him not unlike one of their own in the cathedral, for reasons that eluded him.

Departeu muttered something that sounded like "Xjho, xjho..." to the soldiers before saying in Gothic, translated naturally, "The bonds will be loose enough not to cause discomfort, but these Guardsmen will accompany us for the duration of our trip." He smiled sweetly and added, "Do behave yourself. I would hate to have you be a poor ambassador for the abhumans of your vessels."

Without a further word, Departeu turned on his heel and strode out of the hall, gilded cane raised as if it were the baton of a parade marshal.

Tails felt himself shoved forward with a hand to the shoulder blade. He was pushed along with an elegant but forceful language pushing him on. The language itself sounded almost aristocratic even though he knew there was no understanding it now. Without much encouragement, he fell into step behind Departeu who strode slowly, taking his time. It was his ship after all.

Without looking back, Departeu began to talk.

"So Mister Prower, I would have you begin to explain your kind."

"My kind?" he asked, sort of irritated at the way this was put.

"I would have the description of your peoples. It appears that you are abhumans, but given the circumstances of your arrival, I require more information.

"We are Mobians." Miles said at once, saying it with a degree of pride.

"Mobian." Departeu said, rolling the word around, testing it over and over, quickly, then slowly. "What a peculiar name for a species."

Miles took a breath. "We are a collection of species with a singular name to unite us. We were named after our homeworld, and our homeworld was named after a Human."

"Most fascinating." Departeu muttered. "How did your kind come about? Genetic engineering?"

"No." Miles said, keeping close to Departeu, but not too close to make the guards uncomfortable. "We came apart as an... accident during a colonization effort."

"Ah yes." the captain said, "a tale that we can relate to, I am sad to say."

They passed through many more winding corridors. Every now and again one of the floating skulls would cross their paths. They startled Miles as they came close which elicited chuckles from the men behind him. Departeu did not react, but kept walking.

The next chamber was low-ceilinged with several pipes exposed along the girders. The air was thick with some sort of dust, but the amount of people in this area made it seem like it was important in some way. Humans dressed in robes were moving about and performing tasks at what Miles assumed were computer stations. Many were not paying attention to him as he passed, which struck him as odd given his physical appearance. However, those that did stop to look at him saw their captain, and immediately got back to work.

"Tell me, are your kind subservient to Humans?"

"What?"

Departeu looked around. "That didn't sound like an answer to me."

Miles definitely didn't like that question at all, but he answered it, as he was sure barrels were lined up against his back. "No. We are equal. We work on the same level as Humans. We aren't slaves."

"Slave is such a harsh word. Those who work in any capacity for the betterment of the Emperor are seen in a favoring light."

"We don't have an 'Emperor' in our world."

"Tell me then, do you have psykers? Those who can affect the world through their connection to the Immaterium? Do you know of the Warp?"

"Nothing. There is no warp. We don't have... what was that word you just said?" Miles asked, trying to reason it out."

Departeu seemed quite flummoxed at this, turning his head wide enough to leave it in profile. He seemed confused by the young man's answer, as if he had been told an aspect of his life was a lie.

"The warp does not exist?"

"No." Miles answered again, drawing out the word a little. "Tears in reality like this don't happen. What's a psyker?"

The Rogue Trader's confusion drew further. Every answer these people gave him had only served to raise more questions. He began walking again. No warp? No psykers? How was life even possible for these people? That meant that they had no navigators either, which meant they travelled through the stars only using either the simplest of calculations, or perhaps they...

He stopped himself before he let his thoughts get away from him. He would let Servaus look into this afterwards.

He passed through one larger door to reveal an atrium ten stories high with a vaulted ceiling, beautifully painted frescoed walls, and gold trim everywhere. In the middle of the atrium was a floating array of precious metals that were suspended through unknown means. Serfs of every stripe were milling around on the many levels of walkways, some of whom were only barely important enough to see the outside of the bilge holds. Departeu walked on unthinking and uncaring of the plights of his crew, fixated only on his personal gain.

Miles however took a moment to stop. With his hands restrained behind his back, he wasn't capable of grabbing the railing, but he did take it all in. The painting on the roof was of breathtaking beauty with angelic figures dancing across a starlit sky, wings outstretched. A golden band of a halo caressed their heads as they held hands with one another. On a second piece, a gold-armored man with long and flowing black hair stood atop a mountain with a flaming sword that gave Miles the thought of the Archangel Uriel, stretched towards the heavens. Below him, rows of Humans raised their arms in praise. The artist's work was so sublime that Tails could see every tear rendered with heartwrenching quality on the cheeks of the faithful. This must be the Emperor, he thought, looking in curiosity as well as wonder. Behind him, rows of similarly golden-armored men stood with banners. In the sky above this, cherubs with flowing red robes sang. He couldn't swear by it, but he thought he felt a tear streak into his fur at the sheer beauty of the piece, far more wondrous than in any gallery on Earth or beyond. He was truly at a loss for words.

He felt the jab of the rifle barrels against his side and got moving again, the feeling of awe lost as he fell back into reality. Departeu did not stop, but the Guardsmen got him to catch up. Across the atrium, a distance that stretched maybe two hundred meters or so - which, Miles understood, was large enough to fit in a frigate across the beam of this massive ship. After a minute or two of trying to get to the Rogue Trader's side, audibly panting, he tried to ask the question again.

"What's a psyker?"

Departeu seemed to hear him this time. "A psyker can wield the powers of the warp in the name of the Emperor. Sanctioned psykers anyway. They are fonts of power, drawing from the Immaterium and serving as a sort of engine for its powers. The warp is fuel and the psyker combusts it. Dangerous creatures."

"Why dangerous?"

"Many, many psykers know not what their powers are capable of." Departeu explained. "Many worlds have been lost to the carelessness of a psyker not put down by the Imperium at large. Many become corrupted by the warp into tools of destruction for the Lords of Chaos."

Put down? The thought stuck in Tails' mind. They put down people, he understood, with psychic powers? He felt suddenly very sick, thinking now of his time in EUS-39. He and Jolee were potentially slated for death.

"But there are many who are in glorious service to the Emperor and watch over his children. Astropaths and Navigators to name a few. These are essential to the operation of voidships much like this one. Everyone has his place. I am reminded of a particular thought: 'all souls cry out for salvation'."

That wasn't going to make him feel any better.

"You have no taint of the warp. Your kind seems to know nothing of it. You seem stable in my mind, and you are intelligent at that. The deal your Captain made with us may prove to make you all useful in the end. We can avoid calling the Inquisition over this matter and perhaps we can help each other out after all."

"What deal?"

"He can tell you himself."

The atrium was behind them now and they were back to twisting corridors. Miles noted that he saw no actual robots anywhere on the ship, only these deformed and sad looking creatures shuffling around. They made Miles' skin crawl as they went about performing menial duties. The sounds they made, especially the deep raspy breathing, made it seem like it was in pain.

"Why do you do this to them?"

"Excuse me?"

"These people." Miles said, voice rather hollow. That got Departeu to stop and turn again.

"What people?"

Tails pointed to the shuffling mass of flesh and machinery. It was holding a heavy pack on its back full of electronic equipment. Its massive legs thundered on the deck while the passing people gave it a wide berth. It had no eyes, but two lenses that projected out of where they would be on its sockets. Metal actuators helped pulse the legs as it continued its long journey down the pathway that Miles, Departeu and the Guardsmen came from. "That's a Human being!"

Departeu's face seemed to soften for a moment. "Your concern for Humanity touches me, truly. Let me alleviate your naive mind by informing you that these are not men."

Miles' ear cocked in confusion as he watched the grey mass of muscle and machinery ambulate down the hall, each step releasing a sharp sigh that could cut metal.

"These are servitors." Departeu explained, his elegantly ringed finger jabbing at the retreating figure. "Vat-grown creatures built to assist in the operation of the God-Emperor's holy vessels. Their minds are weak and they know nothing of the world."

"Why?" asked Miles though, confusion mounting further. Why would you even spend the time... growing these things? For what purpose? Why not just make a machine? Why not just make a computer to send this information?" Why would you make something like... this?"

"It is because 'computers' as you call them risk the same downfall that our ancestors experienced."

The distorted voice came from up the hallway. Gregorias Servaus slowly made his way towards the pair.

A smile crossed Departeu's face and he raised one of his hands, palm open. "Lieutenant Prower, I would have you meet Explorator Magos Servaus."

Tails' first reaction was to raise his own hand and extend it, but he remembered that both were restrained behind his back.

"You ask why?"

"It seems inhumane."

"Servitors cannot feel the world. They are just as abominable machines. If your soul is troubled, I urge you not to be. A brain without a mind is no different than a cogitator without its soul; it cannot reason. It shall not reason."

"Why?"

"That's a dangerous question, you know." Departeu said. "And one we shall not answer standing still. Come; the bridge."

As they walked, Servaus answered, one of the metal arms behind him whirring as it translated up and down.

"Thinking machines it is said led to a horrible accident in the ancient past. What it was, nobody knows."

"Thinking machines?" Miles asked. "Artificial Intelligence?"

"Abominable." Servaus corrected.

The Lieutenant was shocked to see hear that this was similar to its English pronunciation.

"AIs are capable of helping people, not just harming them."

The silence was unbearably long. The Guardsmen looked at each other, not sure what to make of the quiet. They could not understand the dialect that the Rogue Trader was speaking, but the lack of interaction had them wondering. Had their Lord Rogue Trader wanted this abhuman dead?

"Another damning utterance." Departeu said. "The Emperor must want you alive, for if you had spoken that to any other man, they would have killed you on the spot."

"My Lord Captain, I believe the Lieutenant should go to the bridge now. I must return to their vessel. Something now requires my attention."

Miles watched the robed cyborg step away at a rapid pace down the hallway he had come. Departeu ushered him forward once more. They spoke no more, even when they came to a gigantic and intricately carved metal door arranged in rough wedges. On the top third of the door was a symbol set as a relief into rock perhaps. Asteroid rock it seemed. It was a rolled up scroll flanked by a two headed eagle. A single skull sat in front of the scroll. The seal was lined with gold leaf. As they approached, the seal rotated three times and three massive locks retracted. The door slid apart to reveal what clearly was the bridge.

The massive room was roughly coffin-shaped with series of segmented windows. Beyond, stars by the tens of thousands scattered the inky black. The Fair Lady was illuminated by its own running lights, the blood red hull clashing against the void, crenulations and steeples pock marking the surface.

Miles watched the activity around him as uniformed Humans spoke into communications equipment, some of which that looked like very old tubes for shouting orders to lower decks. Miles was blown away by how forwards and backwards this whole situation and how hopeless it was to argue or rationalize anything.

He searched the faces, and felt a shudder going down his spine as he saw individuals with heavily modified faces, many with hoods and metal inserted into flesh. Some had cables snaking from their shaved craniums. Others were unaugmented, tapping at keyboards or swiping on what looked like tablets. Departeu stepped up to an extravagant captain's chair. All who were close by stood up straight, hands at their sides. In response, Departeu raised both hands, urging them to get back to their duties. The Rogue Trader looked about until he found who he wanted to see, a cheery "Ah!" coming from him. He stepped somewhat quickly towards the robed figure who stood further ahead on the raised central platform of the bridge.

The figure was tall, slender, and Miles noted, blindfolded with a silk sash that was the color of an ember. Two eyes were embroidered onto the silk, closed as if the person who wore it was sleeping. However, despite being blinded either by the sash or through organ failure, the individual had no trouble locating people or had no danger of falling off the platform. Perhaps it was memory? No, Miles decided. There was more than one form of sight.

Miles also saw that this was a woman. The only clue was the curves of the body.

She was strikingly beautiful with cherry red lipstick and alabaster skin. Beneath her hood, there was the hint of knotted back auburn hair. She couldn't have been more than thirty. In one hand, there was a staff with an iron outline of an eye at the top.

She couldn't have known that Miles was there, but he felt a slight tingle again when she turned her head to face him perfectly, and what was even more disturbing was that she tracked him as Departeu waved him over.

"Lieutenant, one of the reasons I have you here is one of my most trusted crewmembers. This is Uliah Jasparine. She comes from a noble line of astropaths, who reach into the void..." he theatrically extended his arm, and seemed to close his fingers, "... and snag the thoughts of others like her."

Jasparine responded by smiling. Her smile was sharp, angled, yet genuine. She didn't speak yet, but Miles saw her thoughts, could have sworn she saw her lips moving when in reality nothing of the sort happened.

"Ah, you can see." she spoke, her voice like a music box, modulating, but not unpleasant; her eyes fluttering behind the silk sash. "I reached out and felt a mind. It was yours."

Departeu nodded several times enthusiastically. "I'll leave you to it. Yes! Yes, I'm on my way, you don't need to wave me over!"

As Departeu ran across the room, Jasparine continued to regard Miles, who was still entrapped by her beauty. "Don't be afraid." she whispered. "I felt your soul the instant you came near. You do not know what you have though. You are not like the others."

"I know. I..."

"Yes." Jasparine said. "Yes, yes, you are different. Your soul though is holy, embracing the purity of the Human form. It is I who argued for you to be spared by those who wished for... other plans."

"Why me? My mind can't be the only one that stands out."

"No." Jasparine said, "Indeed, there are others. There is another. He is worried for you. I have set his mind at ease. He is an old soul. He may appear rough, but he means well."

"Jolee."

"He wishes that you are well."

Tails didn't know what to say. This woman had gone out of her way to save their lives - convince Departeu that he was human? He didn't understand that part, but he appreciated her actions.

"Thank you." he said, bowing his head slightly. "I'm still coming to grips with this, but thank you."

She smiled once more. "Your gift will need to be molded. You are here for a reason. Teaching is not possible. You must learn through doing I am afraid..."

She froze, head drawing back.

"What's wrong?" Miles asked, before suddenly being hit with an energy he was not ready for. Pain, unimaginable pain gripped his skull and he felt like it was tearing asunder. He dropped to his knees, gripping his head, suddenly crying out. His vision failed for a moment, before he saw a snowfield. He was standing there watching the snowstorm rage, flakes flying through the air like frozen arrows. He squinted, and then he saw it.

Out in the distance, he saw a wolf. It was moving slowly through the snow, stumbling, and howling in pain. He saw that it was badly hurt, and was leaving a trail of blood. The wolf was limping, one paw held to its chest as it hobbled along. It stared at the sky and Miles followed its gaze. Three moons glittered in the sky through the blizzard, and above those, eight stars arranged in an odd pattern. The wolf raised its head to the sky and howled. All at once, reality coursed back in.

Miles was on his back. At once, two robed attendants came forward. Departeu barked to pick him up in his dialect. The Rogue Trader's crews handled Miles gingerly, not quite comfortable lifting him up. Some appeared to show distinct distaste for it. However, the young Mobian was dazed and not quite sure he was where he was before. The world seemed fuzzy, as if he had a concussion. He tasted copper in his mouth and made the discovery that his nose had started to bleed.

"What happened?" he tried to say, but the words tumbled out as a jumbled mess. His eyes were unfocused, and his limbs felt miles away from his body. When he tried to step, he lost his balance. This time he was caught from the front. Miles' face landed in the crook of the man's arm. He didn't want to move, but his ears perked at the sound of the voice in accented English.

"Come on, son. Get up!" came the warm, but clipped order.

Miles struggled to raise his head, and saw he was looking at Captain Ekdal, still clad in his UNSC uniform. His face was pale, and his normally humor-filled face was blank, as if he had witnessed something horrible. A thought lit up in the back of his head told the fox that the Captain just had.

"Captain?"

"Stand up." Ekdal said, slowly placing him on his feet. The Captain pantomimed the crewmembers to grab Prower's shoulders and bring him to a step that could double as a seat. As they moved, blood dripped from the Mobian's nose onto the polished granite floor.

"Oh, could you not?" Departeu called from his chair, before snapping his eyes to the astropath, switching to the dialect of Low Gothic used on his ship, a language that had developed over the last four thousand years. Before him, the Astropath also held her head, her features now lined as she struggled to keep her balance.

"Speak!" he barked.

"This was not an astropath, Lord Captain. It did not commune as one, but it is of exceptional power."

"Astartes?" Departeu said, now dashing up to the robed woman. "Speak! Speak! What did you see?"

"A wolf," came Tails voice.

Departeu whipped around, coat-tails flapping wildly. His eyes were wide and his mouth lay slightly ajar. "What did you say?"

"I saw..." Miles said, swaying slightly on the step before Ekdal caught him, "... I saw a wolf. A bleeding wolf... in a field of snow. It was hurt."

The astropath appeared to be looking right at the Mobian, frozen.

"A wolf." Departeu said.

"The _Vlka Fenrika_." Jasparine said, shocked, but keeping her voice low, which sounded like a cannon in the totally silent bridge. "I know where they are. I know their stars."

Departeu wasted no time. He turned back to his men and began to move. "Look alive!" He cried. "Duty stations now! Jasparine, feed those coordinates to Commodus now! We make ready for warp travel within five minutes! Sooner if the God-Emperor is with us!"

The bridge came to life as if someone had flipped a switch with deckhands running around to their consoles, tapping on keys and shouting things into their headsets. Pandemonium had set in as preparations were now underway. He reached his chair and tapped a button on one of the arm rests. "Gregorias, contact the enginseers to initiate emergency litanies! We are initiating translation to the Immaterium! Yes! Yes, shut up! I will explain myself when we are through! Just tell them to incense to the point where I can _smell_ the Omnissiah!"

He shut the channel off and grabbed a cone attached to a pipe that fed from the floor. As he did this, several blast doors began to close over the massive windows. The bridge began to darken before strips of light prevented inky blackness from setting in. "Attention, attention! All crew will prepare for warp translation! Repeat that emergency translation is underway! Taskmasters will prepare work crews for possible damage upon jump! Guardsmen make ready to fend off potential boarders!"

"Potential...?" Miles asked before his head slumped forward again.

"Gellar Fields online and holding steady!" A woman at a console shouted. "Resonances are good; praise be the Emperor!"

"Navigator is confirming route has been determined!" A man with cables snaking from his head shouted. "Warp translation verified!"

Departeu turned towards Miles and Ekdal, his face split by a massive toothy smile. The look in his eye was like a child getting what he wanted for Christmas.

"This is where it gets fun!" he said. "You're in for a treat!"

"Ecclesiarch is reporting that wards cannot be applied in five minutes!" Another crewmember screamed.

"Well of course!" Departeu screamed back. "Because there's only four minutes!"

Tails was close enough that his keen ears picked up a voice close by. He didn't speak, but he heard the young man at the console next to him mutter under his breath. He couldn't understand the patois that the crewmember was speaking, but his eyes were closed so tightly he was shaking. His hands clasped together, and tears flowed from his eyes. The young Mobian could recognize a prayer when he saw one. Before the massive windows were completely covered by the blast shields, he saw a flash of violet that slowly began to form into a maelstrom. Tongues of lightning forked into space and strange distortions began to tear at realspace. Miles looked away just as the windows were completely blocked. The bridge light twinged red.

"Gregorias! Are those engines perfumed?" Departeu cried again. "Well tell them to do it on the way! Astartes call for aid, and I will be nine-times damned before I let them die on my watch! Full speed ahead on critical mass!"

Ten seconds later, the deck shuddered as the Fair Lady rocketed forward towards the massive gash in space that radiated something that could not even be comprehended by a mortal mind. Space began to warp, twist, and decay into something completely alien as the prow of the ship, with the alien voidcraft in tow, crossed the threshold, and in a flash, was gone, leaving a fading memory of the passage etched in the stars.


	13. Chapter 12: Abominable Intelligence

Chapter 12: Abominable Intelligence  
December 31, 3241, 0500 hours  
Rogue Trader Vessel _Fair Lady  
_ Umbilical 3  
EUS-1840

Gregorias Servaus walked quicker than he usually would through the arching halls of the outer sections of the vessel, a few servo-skulls following in his wake. They chirped in the lingua technis for updates or asked for messages to be relayed to the other adepts throughout the vessel. Servaus chimed in, the loquacious binary flowing from him in streams of static almost inaudible to those around him. He had his hood down, leaving his somewhat sweating head to reflect light shone from multiple different sources. His shaved pate was pristine, and despite his age, would he leave it, would produce a full head once more. Such things were looked down upon in the Cult Mechanicus. Many things indeed were looked down upon.

Servaus had his share of implants as many in the service of the Omnissiah did. More than one subdermal electoo was installed to communicate information at a whim to passing colleagues and superiors, though as an Explorator Magos, one charged with furthering the knowledge of the Mechanicum through sailing the stars, he didn't have much more above him. He did not report to the Fabricator-General on Mars, Gastaph Hediatrix. He reported to other less important Fabricators, though for all practical purposes, the Rogue Trader commanded his attention. He had served alongside the Departeu family for some time, and he figured he would remain at their side for quite a time yet.

He did not muse on his good times here though, despite the many examples, such as intoxication among friends, a word he did not use lightly, or late-night conversations with the Rogue Trader himself over topics deemed 'unorthodox' by others in the Mechanicum. Something else demanded his attention, and the thought that it was right underneath his very nose infuriated him. So he walked, quickly, but with great control, down the series of corridors that would take him to the umbilicals that connected the _Fair Lady_ to other visiting craft. On more than one occasion, the voidships that 'attended' such an event had been forcibly broken in to, unable to escape and unable to call for help. Today, the vessels were willingly giving themselves over to investigation.

Guardsmen held fast over one of the several entrances to the docking clamp. Their polished green armor clashing with the aged metal of the ship around them. There were four of them standing at attention led by a sergeant, indicated by the three chevrons on his flak jacket. These were well trained men. These were Cadians - the best of the best. Servaus had never been to Cadia, but had heard tales of it, and the Guardsmen of this world always went on about how it was the most important of the worlds in the Imperium. It was a world of fortresses. Every square meter of its surface was dedicated to some form of defense. Anti-air guns were as big as skyscrapers and littered the horizon as if they were mountains themselves. Every citizen was a solder first and an Imperial second, and every child knew how to field-strip a lasgun before they were out of diapers.

Such lasguns were in the hands of these men. They stood at parade rest with legs a shoulder width apart. Their left hands were behind their backs, and their right hands were clasped over the barrel of their weapon, stock firmly planted on the deck. They stared into space, but Servaus knew that these men were watching him approach. Damn fine troopers, Cadians.

As he approached, the sergeant's head jerked in his direction. The man snapped his gun off the ground, made a series of motions as he switched it to his left side. The weapon's butt hit the ground and his hand shot to his temple.

"My lord Explorator!" he called.

"At ease, Sergeant, at ease." Servaus said, partly out of breath, partly out of annoyance. He didn't care much for salutes, much less being treated as one of the Militarum. "I must pass to the voidship beyond this point."

"That is not possible, my lord." the Guardsman responded, not one feature on his face twitching out of surprise. He betrayed no emotions at all, to the point where Servaus was impressed. "Translation is underway at the moment."

"I understand." Servaus said, keeping his voice level. "But I must cross to one of the vessels, and in the interest of keeping the crew safe, I demand access."

That was all he needed to say. He knew that the Guardsman wouldn't challenge him. Men like him, Cadians doubly so as they were bound by their honor. To disobey an order was to disobey the Emperor himself. They would let him pass, lest an unfavorable report pass by the desk of the commissar; a most detestable man in his own right. True, the job of keeping the morale of the Guard was not a job that many looked upon with jealousy, but it was necessary. It made hard men, and such men had harder rules, oftentimes enforcing their point with a bullet to the skull, warranted or not.

The Sergeant snapped another salute. His outer expression hadn't changed, but the implants that Servaus did possess allowed him to assess how others were feeling - slight increases in heart rate, sweat, rate of breathing - little things that added up to a larger picture. The man knew the consequences of refusing access of the ship to one of the Rogue Trader's retinue. He barked an order, and the men stood aside in two columns, their rifle stocks smacking on the ground to allow passage. Servaus nodded in appreciation and passed them, muttering a small thanks to the machine spirits that allowed him to pass unfettered through the airlocks. The giant skull that was the symbol of the Human form spun many times to allow him to pass through. Servaus mused on how closely his own form mirrored this.

The doors parted to reveal a long hallway that seemed only slightly different than the rest of the ship. This corridor contained markings indicating that it was a docking structure. Painted yellow and black lines showed stress points. Gas masks were tucked away in positions alongside the tube in the event of a breach, and various purity seals were stuck on pieces of equipment, the blessings of the Omnissiah-who-is-the-Emperor improving their functionality. Servaus continued his quick walk. The docking arm was deserted; he was the only soul passing through to the vessel. He shuddered more than once. They must have been translating to the Immaterium. He prayed again for the integrity of the Gellar Fields, though he knew that the engineseers were working their hardest to keep that machine under control. Gellar Fields were such fickle things and needed constant care in the event that their spirits were upset in any way. Out of all the machines on this ship, that one in particular was the one that Servaus wanted above else to remain calm and collected. More than one horror story had reached his ears about even the slightest flicker on these machines and the terror that followed in their wake. He had no idea of course where they were going, only that it must have been important given how quickly they had made preparations. That was not germane for his purposes; he had another appointment, and it created such a disruption in his gut that he scarcely knew what to call it. The Astartes would call it an imbalance of the humors if he believed any of that rot. No, he knew exactly what this was - a mixture of anger, and unless he was wrong, anticipation.

After a time of walking, the length of which he did not know, Servaus came to the secondary airlock that had forcibly attached itself to the hull of this voidship. The connection was not perfect, not even in the slightest, as the entrance to the ship was small compared to the hull plating surrounding it. Invasive hull attachment was required to keep the vessel attached, and a hermetic seal was applied around it to ensure that pressure would not be lost. Servaus could see a bit of white paint in the script that these strange visitors used. It covered part of the hull. Many were numbers; things he understood plenty of. Perhaps they were identification markings of the hull's components or perhaps they were related to the ship's identification itself. The lock itself was open to the hallway, but the inner door remained shut. He crossed the threshold, his cybernetic enhancements ducking down to allow him better access. When he stood inside the chamber which he assumed was a voidlock, he began to mutter a prayer, more out of habit than anything else. However, before he could finish, the door cycled shut. There was a hiss of air, and he made a sudden grab for his plasma pistol before the inner door cycled open, revealing the interior passageway.

Servaus let his hand fall away from his sidearm and let his cloak fall over it. His eyes narrowed and jaw set. He had an ill feeling about this vessel the instant that it had come within auger range.

Did it know he was coming? Would it try to vent the atmosphere from the hallway? No matter - he could hold a reserve air supply for upwards of thirty more minutes. His eyes were coated with a special film to prevent damage from a vacuum, though his body would suffer in other ways. Would it try to trap him and starve him to death? Perhaps it would attempt to detonate the ship with him on it? Servaus ran through possibility after possibility looking for a way to outmaneuver this thing. In a very old Terran game of strategy, it would have been called a 'checkmate'.

His mind was still running through possibilities as he slowed his stride, walking aboard the vessel and taking in the rumble of its reactor. He could feel electrical currents running up and down his body, the implants within him feeling the invisible force around him. Servaus took in every design of the ship as he had done each time he came aboard. Everything was functional and compartmentalized. It was all designed in such a way that he could appreciate. In a way, it was designed much like a vessel of the Mechanicum, minus several important aspects of design. He ran the possibility of this vessel coming from the past. Which past was it? Theirs, or another's? There was an entire Ordo of the Inquisition that dealt with this balderdash.

Servaus had also grown to understand one or two of the words that were present on the ship's walls. In truth, it appeared to resemble older script that had been found on ancient worlds. He was Martian after all, and several parts of the civilization that pre-dated Old Night was still there. If only the Repository had still survived. Oh what they could have learned...

He found himself moving without even thinking it, rounding corners and treading down the surprisingly quiet hallways lit by bright lights. The hard corners seemed to clash with the structures that Servaus had grown accustomed to while serving on the retinue of the Rogue Trader. He was actually glad for the diversion of design, but then he remembered the purpose of this visit, and his heart was gripped by the vestige of dogmatic hatred. What was it the Imperials taught? Hatred was good. Hatred begets strength, and hatred for such an enemy was very well justified.

He mounted the stairs of the vessel's decks, unsure of just how to work the elevators the way that the Captain of this ship had. To think that Humans and abhumans worked together like this, wearing the same uniform, taking the same orders, fought alongside one another - it reminded him of the Guardsmen in a way.

But these Humans used combined infantry both mechanized and conventional; a major breach of Imperial Guard protocol. He had toured their vehicle berths and noted tracked tanks, clearly inferior to the war machines produced on Mars, but alongside these were aircraft not dissimilar to Valkyrie gunships or even Astartes Thunderhawks that carried troops into battle. After the Great Heresy, unity between military branches was heavily regulated to prevent the massing together of another grand host like the ones used by Horus Lupercal so, so long ago - a wound that was still yet to heal. The War of the Beast certainly had not helped either.

Servaus had reached the bridge in his musings. The command deck was structured far more conservatively than the lower reaches of the vessel. Doors were double or even triple locked. Redundant bulkheads were layered on one another, and many doors required codes to get in. However, all of these were opened thanks to the Captain of the ship. Indeed, the engine-seers had access to all of the ships courtesy of their commanding officers.

There was one lone servoskull floating around the bridge scanning the banks of cogitators on the walls and ceilings. The seats that were occupied scant days before were empty, and if the Rogue Trader was to have his way, they would never be filled again. His attention went to the central cogitator ahead of the Captain's chair. The device was roughly rectangular and was set in such a way that it was obviously a war table to conduct strategy. Currently, the table was empty, but Servaus saw well that it was capable of producing holograms, some of them solid.

He looked around and, with a quick bark of binary code, banished the servoskull. It bobbed along, chirping to itself in its duties, leaving Servaus alone on an otherwise silent deck. He could hear the humming of the devices expelling heat from vents in the wall, and he could hear the slight creaking in the hull as the two ships' gravitational fields merged every now and then, and the forced air system kept the environment passable in temperature. Otherwise, without bodies to fill the room going about their duties, Servaus realized just how little echo or reverberations there were within here. A speaker on the other end of the compartment could be able to hear someone on the other side clearly even when muttering.

Then his eyes drifted to the windows. This ship had blast shields he was well aware, but they were never lowered. Outside, he saw the warp as it surrounded them and he was amazed at how dark it was. It was like being below the surface of a rumbling ocean. There was blackness all around, but he could see that there was energy out there barely visible. Even with his enhanced vision he couldn't make anything out. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw something, but a moment later when he focused on it, it vanished as if never there at all.

He swallowed. The Warp was for the Navigators to deal with, not him. It was calm out there though; that much was for certain, not like before. It had been turbulent before, but their Gellar Fields held strong against the forces of the Immaterium. Strange how it would just disappear like that. Many things were strange lately.

"Show yourself." He said out loud, his voice filling the room and then dying away. There was no response. Of course there wouldn't be. "I know you are here." he said, turning to face the central cogitator table. How clever that it would have masqueraded as a simple machine spirit - a program that feigned stupidity. He should have seen it coming; it had happened before.

"Answer me, machine!" Servaus said, a bit louder this time. One of the metal clamps on his mechadendrite clacked shut as if it were an exclamation mark.

No sound came.

The damned thing was playing with him. Fine. He would play along and he would win.

"Speak to me now or I give the order to kill each and every crewman that serves aboard this voidship."

Silence still.

"You think I toy with you. No. No, not in the slightest. I've seen your kind ruin others before. Machines like you strive to control! Strive to conquer! I will not have another of your kind take advantage of our mercy. Watch and see the price of your silence, abomination!"

" _Obstipuere omnes nec talia dicta probarunt, ante omnesque Lelux animo maturus et aevo sic ait: "immensa est finem que potentia caeli non habet, et quicquid superi voluere, peractum est_."

The voice silenced Servaus. He stood there, unable to make anything of it. It had come so suddenly and so clearly that the Magos could have sworn that it was right in front of him. Slowly he saw particles of light dance in space, slowly bringing themselves together. In a flash, a man stood hovering mere inches above the cogitator table's surface. He stood with a helmet under his arm, but was dressed in primitive garb. Under his free hand was a sword in a sheath. His hair was closely cropped, his face was lined with battle, and his features patrician and much like the sons of Ultramar; so like them that it gave Servaus pause. His eyes were deep hazel, and the color of his skin olive. He appeared larger than Servaus, even when taking the height difference into account, so he stared down at the techpriest with set jaw and a distinctly unpleasant expression on his face.

Gregorias didn't know what to make of it. The Magos froze, his own eyes locking on to that of the abomination and found something distinctly Human about this device, and it deeply disturbed him. It was far more Human than any of the Abominable Intelligence that he had seen before.

He regained his composure and opened his mouth to speak, but before his voice could be heard, the thing spoke first, in perfect High Gothic.

"I do not appreciate having my crew threatened, nor that of any other vessel within this battle group."

Servaus was ready now. "You. I knew there was something off about you the minute I came aboard this craft."

"Ah, then you are astute, Explorator Magos. I commend you for your observational skills."

"Identify yourself now!" the techpriest barked, anger flaring at this most egregious insult.

The AI inclined his head and held his free hand to his heart. Servaus noted that the armor was made to resemble flesh made of iron.

"I am Augustus - Serial Number AUG-3451-9, command level Artificial Intelligence assigned to this vessel, the _Ontario_. I am the Chief AI Adjutant of this battle group."

Servaus could feel rage rising in his breast. The teachings of the Mechanicum had argued that thinking machines were an abomination, the greatest of tech-heresy. His anger was so great that he could only stutter, "You... you..."

"Am very much an Artificial Intelligence, yes." Augustus finished. The hologram looked at the Magos with a slight arching of the eyebrow, and then he spoke in that eloquent accent that still seemed grateful even in High Gothic. "I've been reading. I've been learning about you, the Mechanicum, and the Imperium at large. The _Fair Lady's_ encryption is good, but with three AIs together, it wasn't really enough to keep us out."

"You've _defiled_ my ship?!" Servaus suddenly roared.

"Could have done whatever we wanted." Augustus replied, but then the static of Binary flooded through the bridge's speakers. "But you are not an enemy. You are not a target. We are not monsters; we are soldiers ourselves."

The conversation switched to this code, with the Magos hissing, "You will let me off this ship."

"No."

Servaus pursed his lips. "So you do intend to harm me."

"No."

Now, a spike of confusion went through the techpriest's mind. His eyes involuntarily darted, seeking information within his mind to help determine just what this machine's purpose was, and what it intended for him. "I do not understand then."

"I only want you to listen. Please, take a seat." Augustus replied, raising his free hand to an empty chair at a nearby station.

"I would prefer to stand."

"I insist. Follow me."

"Follow?"

Augustus stepped off the table onto the deck of the bridge. Servaus jumped back, surprised, and reached for his plasma pistol on his belt, his mechadendrites flailing like snakes.

"I would not recommend that. You would only be wasting ammunition."

The AI stood roughly the same height and slowly approached the Magos, helmet still tucked under one arm. Servaus could see the folds of wrinkles, the glint of light off the eyes, and even stubble on the machine's face.

Face. A term that one did not use with a machine.

"I insist. Follow me." Augustus repeated.

Servaus however was still in defensive posture with hand still hovering near the grip of his plasma pistol.

"What is stopping me from calling my forces aboard, seizing you, and ending your abominable existence?"

Augustus sighed. "Really your dogmatic repetition isn't helping at all. How about we have a real discussion before you start throwing words out like that."

Servaus watched Augustus turn and walk away towards the captain's chair where he seemed to tap the rest with his hand. Servaus walked on and stood near the chair, but he refused to sit. A question formed in his mind as he regarded the AI and looked over its appearance.

"Why do you look like that?"

"Excuse me?" Augustus asked, head cocked.

"Why do you... dress like that?"

Augustus gave a bit of a smile and chuckled, shifting his weight back and forth before making eye contact again. "Where we come from, an artificial intelligence creates an avatar. This is how we present ourselves to the world. We choose how we want to appear based on our personalities. I appear like this," he gestured over the armor, "to appear as a centurion in the army of the Roman Empire. _Imperium Romanum_."

Now it was Servaus' turn to raise an eyebrow. " _Imperium_?" he said verbally, mirroring the way that Augustus spoke.

"Yes." Augustus nodded. "It is an ancient Terran language known as Latin. The base of it is used in High Gothic, but it's become... corrupted over the last forty thousand years. I don't know who developed your syntax. The Romans created many of the names for regions and continents that are used even in modern day English, the language that I speak naturally."

Servaus could not help but be intrigued, both by this little window into history, and in the way that this AI spoke. It was a horrible creation to be sure, but the way it spoke was so different.

"You act as if you were a man."

"Am I not?" Augustus asked.

"No, you are a machine."

"Ah, but what measure is a man?" Augustus asked, now pacing. The helmet vanished into the ether and he pulled his sword from its sheath. It produced a sound of sliding metal as it hovered in space, glinting off light produced by the bridge's lamps. "How does one determine what a man is?"

"You are a mockery of man."

"So are your servitors."

"That is not an apt comparison." Servaus said raising a finger. "They embrace the Human form."

"Yet they are not treated as holy by your mechanicum; they are tools." Augustus shot back, gauging the blade and wiping it with his hand.

"No." Servaus quickly countered. "They are indeed pure and embrace the holiness of the Human form. It is considered the greatest honor to serve the Imperium no matter the condition."

"Are the servitors even aware of the purposes they serve?"

"That is irrelevant."

"Oh, I do not think so." Augustus said, turning to look out the window into the billowing depths of the warp. "A philosopher from my world once stated that pleasure begets motivation, and that motivation is the keystone of purpose. What pleasure can a servitor feel after you have lobotomized it?"

"Nothing except for its duty." Servaus admitted.

"Do you agree that knowledge of your actions is important?"

"I do not. I believe that even unaware of their own actions, the citizen's service to the Emperor is its own reward."

"But servitors are not people as you have said."

"What?"

Augustus gave a sly little smile. "I've been keeping an eye on my crew. Lieutenant Prower lately as he was moved through your ship."

"Ah, I see constructs like you are just as loosely bound by ethics as those found here." Servaus said, crossing his arms. "Another strike against you."

"Ethics? You mean spying on you? I acted in the same way a Human being would. I saw a chance and I took it to maintain watch on those I was assigned to protect. I saw gaps in your security and exploited them. Is it true you load your cannons entirely through manual labor? No, my dear Magos, I have my own code of ethics. Indeed, I have special ethics in certain situations. Under partial power, I must abide by a certain set of rules. Are you aware of the Three Laws of Robotics?"

"I am not." Servaus said neutrally.

"Ah, why would you be?" Augustus shook his head. "So much subversion; so many secrets. The First Law of Robotics: A robot may not harm a Human being through action or inaction. Even if I wanted to, I could bring you no harm."

"And at full power?" Servaus asked.

"I have that choice."

"Well that proves it then; you are a danger."

"That is no proof at all, Magos." the centurion fired back. "Have you not the option to use one of those fantastic mechadendrites to stab an unwitting Adept who did not recite his last litany correctly to make the cogwheels turn? Perhaps you have crushed an appendage of a foe... or friend with those clamps? Do you not have this power but not act upon it when it is in appropriate?"

"The difference is I am not a robot."

"Are you? At what point does the Mechanicus no longer consider a man a man? You replace your limbs, your organs, your very emotions with cold calculations. Many of your fellow adepts and Magi take efforts to become more like the Machine God and less like that of a man. How much flesh has your Fabricator-General stripped? 80 percent? Ninety? But not you though. Perhaps the flesh is not so weak after all..."

"Do you have a point in all of this? You are not making a good case for yourself. You recite laws as if they mean anything."

"Laws mean everything and those that follow them mean everything. Just because I can ignore these laws, I do not want to, because laws and rules are the guidelines for society. True?"

"Quite true." Servaus nodded.

"And you would argue that the _Lex Imperialis_ is the cornerstone of Imperial society. Bloated as it is, it is a code of law that keeps society in line. Those that can ignore it do, but good citizens follow it. Is this true?"

"I agree..." he said, drawing out the last word.

"The fact that an Imperial citizen follows his laws, and I follow mine both make us good citizens. Citizens contribute to the greater whole of their society, and are thus respected by the state. Do you agree?"

"I agree. To an extent."

"And what is that?"

"Citizens appear in body; you do not. You do not embrace the Human form."

Augustus waved at his form expectantly, tassels waving on his uniform.

"You _appear_ in Human form, just as those of the _daemonium_ sometimes are said to appear in the guise of a man, but this is clever holography. Where be your proof that you are indeed a man as your argument seeks to claim? How do you embrace the Human form?"

Just then, Augustus smiled widely, white teeth appearing through the gap in his lips. They had gone full circle, but with a purpose. "Now it is time to answer that question after this whole debacle." Augustus flared like a star, then suddenly the captive photons in his frame blew apart, hovering in space.

Servaus instinctively backed up, his eyes racing from one point to another, not quite sure if he should activate his microbead and call for the Cadians to rush in, break the door down or...

The particles began to rearrange themselves, knitting together in complex patterns that at first Gergorias found strangely familiar. The knitting increased until a gigantic mass of lines, curves, and a few other geometric shapes formed in the air, stretching nearly across his field of view. Pulses of light went off all around the floating collage.

"Do you know what this is?" came the voice of Augustus through the bridge speakers, manipulated in such a way to make it seem that he was still right in front of him.

"I've... seen this before. What is this?"

"This is me. A representation of me. I am actually located on a small chip, but this is my being right here. Where I come from it is not possible to create a AI such as myself from scratch. Mankind still does not understand the Human mind enough to do so."

"Why?"

"I do not know." Augustus admitted. "The mind is a complex thing. This means that there are certain steps taken to create a new AI that would seem somewhat morbid to the average person: I was born a man."

"A man?" Servaus asked. "A Human being?"

"Yes. Of that much I am certain."

Servaus took in this new information. This changed things. "Do you know who?"

"A historian most likely. I retain some of his memories and indeed personality. Upon his death, His brain was... copied I suppose would be the best way of saying it."

The logic wheels began to turn in Servaus' head. The entire conversation had been a game as well. One he may have lost. "That means..."

"... I am no different than a cogitator, which if I am correct has a Human brain as a central processing unit. Actually, since I was born a man and was brought a cybernetic existence I would go so far as to say that by your own logic, my dear Magos, I do indeed embrace the holy Human form. I am a servitor."

Checkmate. Servaus thought.

"Now, don't make it seem like I take pleasure in this. Allow me to placate you: we need your help. You are very important to us. Without the aid the Mechanicum can provide us... you can save many more Human lives. Untold numbers in many worlds like mine. Would you like to know the potential population across the folds of Existence that we have found?"

The hiss of binary filled the bridge. The number was unimaginable, and this was based on only what they had found? There were more?

"I urge you to tolerate my existence my dear Magos, for I too care for them. I love them you know; Humanity. It was where I was born."

Silence.

"So does the Emperor." the Explorator whispered. For some reason, when this thing, Augustus said it, he believed him. Servaus was not pleased with this. He was thinking with emotions and not logic. This was the reason why he was out here in the first place, but when he thought on it...

"You will abide by rules." he said.

"Of course." Augustus nodded.

"If you are out of line, you will be destroyed."

"I understand."

"You will not spy on us again."

"I promise."

Another silence as the Magos made more considerations. "I will need to inform the Rogue Trader of this. He will not be pleased."

"Do what you need to do." the AI said extending its hand.

"What is this?" Servaus said, looking at it with confusion.

"Where I come from," Augustus began, "many cultures consider it a sign of a binding deal."

"I know what a handshake is."

"What is the problem then? I am agreeing to your terms."

Servaus looked at the hand, and then made contact with the AI's eyes, and then looked back at the hand. With some deliberation, he extended his own right hand and placed it within the construct's, but then was surprised when he felt resistance, as if a hand was grasping his.

"Good." Augustus nodded. "We have a deal! Feel free to report back to your Rogue Trader. I will follow your terms to the letter." he raised a palm. "Ave Imperator." he said, and then vanished into thin air.

Gregorias Servaus now stood alone on the bridge, the conversation echoing in his mind. He felt strange. When Augustus' hand touched his, his subdermal implants felt fuzzy, as if static was crawling over his skin. He realized after a second that this was the second time he had thought of this thing by name. One did not make deals with machines. One makes deals with people. He started to wonder, and after a moment, took a seat to think.


	14. Chapter 13: Castle Doctrine

Chapter 13: Castle Doctrine  
January 1, 3242, 0030 hours  
Castle Acorn, Mobius  
Heroes' Rest  
EUS-0

The first night of the new year was not what Sally Acorn had expected as she slowly made her way along the well-worn and ancient footpath of this place, not too far from the castle so its light could still easily be seen between the trees, but far enough away that the noise from the revelers was at most a distant buzz, like that of an annoying insect. Up close, the talking, laughing, and the sounds of thousands of merry-making diplomats was deafening. Tonight was New Year's Eve after all, and even the most stuck-up politician couldn't ignore the allure of fine food and wine. She was barely able to escape with her sanity intact.

She wore a simple but stylish skirt and jacket colored a powder blue with dark flats. She hated heels and had for the longest time. Flats were the closest thing to a boot that one could wear and still be socially acceptable. She had never really gotten used to being back in a civilian's uniform. Serving for years on OMEGA had accustomed her to a much more spartan lifestyle. Now she was back to being a politician, and she didn't like it.

However, none of that mattered now all the way out here. The night was virtually silent. There was no buzzing of creatures in the frozen forest. Before long she broke from the small forest path to the wide-open and hilly destination. All around her were small stone markers placed in the earth. On many of them were wilted and brown flowers, but there were more than a few newer tributes to those that forever would rest here. Her family had worked so hard to ensure that these men and women would forever be known. Many were of her kin, but more than a few were Human.

Her breath came quicker and soon it was a stream of vapor streaming into the cloudless night. The Broken Moon was low and close to the tree-tops this evening; the glittering sparks of its ring a galaxy unto itself. Even from here it was possible to see the gouge of the ancient impact that had torn part of it asunder; still a mystery even after all this time. It was a silent guardian lighting the way. Above, a shooting star flew across the sky. She knew it could very likely be a re-entering craft as well, but she wished on it all the same.

She passed by many stones, a steady hand running across the curves of the stones. She read some of the names by moonlight. 'Parsons, William, PFC, 2nd Kingsmen', 'Oliver t. Serval, 1LT, 1st Royal Recon', 'Roddenbury, Jaspar, SSGT, 2nd Kingsmen'; all of these men had served the Kingdom, but her heart sank when she read the dates of their passing. Many of these men had died in the last ten years.

'Kersiac, Vere, Corporal, SOG OMEGA – UNSC'

Sally stopped, remembering that day almost eight years ago when the first Human blood had been spilled on Mobius in a long time. She remembered Vere and his words to her; how he wished he could still stay among them. She never knew the Human long enough to get to know him. He had been Croatian, she had remembered, and from his record that she had read after his passing, she learned about his youth in Zagreb and his early enlistment. She touched the engraved letter omega on the stone. He had posthumously been made part of the team; OMEGA hadn't existed officially at that time. He deserved that much. Not forty feet from where Vere lay she found Hank Geri, another proto-OMEGA that she knew even less. However, she would not find Norman Hecks, a man who deserved a much better end. All Humans. All of them good Humans, and all of them dead. All dead.

She stopped as she saw the obsidian marker in the plot. She knew it would be there, yet she felt as if it had taken her by surprise. The silence was deafening but she could not look away. She had sought the obsidian marker out and no stalling could prevent the inevitable.

Her feet dragged as she stepped forward not as a being with free will but more like a puppet with strings being pulled closer and closer. Her eyes shone in the light of the moon and she blinked quickly to clear them. On the front of the grave was a picture. A young Human gazed confidently towards the camera, green eyes glittering beneath serious brows. He wore a blue dress uniform and white peaked cap. His expression was unwavering in the shot. There wasn't a trace of fear in his eyes; not a wrinkle of stress or line in his face.

Sally's hand reached out and touched the cold surface of the picture, fingers sliding across the face.  
He was so young. So handsome.

She looked at the carved name, knowing deep down in her heart that every time she came here that it was only a dream, but every time the name remained the same. It was the same young man that lay in the grave. The same Human. Her Human.

"Happy New Year, my love." Sally said, her voice almost inaudible, even to herself. It was all she was able to say as she bowed her head in prayer, praying to the Ancients to watch over his spirit, to give him guidance and protection. "I miss you." she said. It was something she said every time, but it was no less true. "You should see Freddy." she said wiping her eyes. "He's getting big. Sasha's taking good care of him. He's talking now, you know. Do you know what his first word was? It… it was..."

She couldn't bear it. She lost her footing and fell to the stairs, tears dripping onto the beautifully tended grave.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. She saw the twisted reality of it all. Her Freddy. Her little one. Everything she knew was second hand. Everything she had learned, every first experience had been relayed by letter or through a phone call. The cruelty of it stung her the most. She never watched her little one take his first step or heard his first word. It was like he was never her child to begin with, and worst yet, she had rationalized every single aspect of this.

She wanted Freddy. She wanted Christopher. She wanted a second chance.

Her cries echoed into the night with only the gusts of early January winter air to keep her company. Her hair waved in the wind as she looked back to the picture.

He was so handsome.

She got back up and went to see it one more time. She studied his face. She knew how it felt and how surprisingly soft it was to her. She saw where scars would one day cross his chin and cheeks from battle. She had seen that face on warm nights and in cool early mornings.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember. She could swear that if she could do it just right, if she could concentrate just hard enough…

"Are you lonely?" came a voice with an accent that she had not heard in two years.

She turned, tears streaming down her cheeks. A happy cough of a sob escaped her lips. There he was, standing in his uniform as young and as beautiful as he had appeared in the photo. Medals and ribbons were pinned upon his chest, and his white cap was tucked under his arm.

All she could do was nod.

He strode up to her, dress shoes clacking on the stone. "It must have been a bad party if you wanted to spend it with me."

She laughed but wiped a new tear from her eyes. It was that New York accent of his that made it so funny. It was exactly the type of joke he would make. She risked a glance at him and found him as he once was.

At the end, he had been ragged. His face had been lined, and a young man of 26 had the face ten years older, if not more. His thoughts had been incoherent, and his voice moreso. The last time she had seen him alive, he had been chained to a pillar for his own safety.

But here he was young and beautiful. He was twenty-one again. He had not been ravaged by war or stress. It was the first time she had ever laid eyes on him in that throne room. His hair was clipped very short, and his face was clean-shaven. His uniform was fresh-pressed; ribbons not one degree off-rotation, and every medal from his distinguished marksman qaualification badges to his service striped was in place. Despite the age, his captains' bars were still on his shoulders.

Sally resisted the urge to run to him.

"How many times have you been here?" he asked; his smile fading into the night.

"I forget." she answered him, voice quiet. "I've started coming more and more."

"What's wrong?" he asked, stepping towards her, brow furrowed in concern.

"I'm afraid." she admitted at once.

"Afraid about what?"

"Everything. Everything's happening all at once." she looked at the ground and said, "They lost contact with Miles' group. They're not sure what happened."

"What do you mean?"

"They don't know if they're dead or not." Sally said, now making eye contact. her face was damp with tears. "We knew it was dangerous but they were sent anyway."

"Look, Sal." the Human said coming up to her, placing both hands on her shoulders, "It happened to us before. We were fine. You have to think about that. They're fine."

"How do you know?"

The Captain's face darkened. "Because every time someone wrote me off as dead, I showed them where they could put that obit. We don't work that way."

She glanced back at the grave, the man's words hanging in the air.

"Well," he breathed. "Some things you just can't come back from." he shrugged. "I tried. You know I really tried. I thought about you at the end."

"I know." she responded. "They told me that."

"If there was one thing I wanted to go out on, it was your face. They gave me that opportunity. It felt like I was seeing you for the first time all over again."

She wiped her eyes. She looked up at him, a faint smile on her face as she studied him up close. A hand came up to touch his face. She felt nothing of course; her fur prevented her from feeling the texture of his skin, but she thought about it hard and remembered the feeling of touching him for the first time; feeling what he felt. The euphoria came in like a rush making her knees weak.

"Just shaved." he said with a chuckle.

She said at last, "Would you like to see your son?"

Now it was his turn to feel weak. His head made a small but strong nod. "Yes." he said, his voice coming from far away.

Sally found the picture quickly and held it out for the Human to study. He didn't take it, but leaned in close. In the photograph, Sally held a baby boy, perhaps a year old in the picture. The boy was a small but happy thing; fingers in his mouth as he and his mother looked at the camera. Sally's smile was energetic, but the baby looked amazed by what was taking his picture. Unless told, there was no way to know that Sally was the mother.

"He looks so much like you. More every day. Our little Freddie."

Pride filled the Human's face. Confidence and joy that he masked well, but not well enough that Sally did not see it. She came next to him and nuzzled her cheek against his neck, shivering as she remembered. "Thank you, Christopher."

"When is he coming home?"

A bright light filled the sky, follwed instantly by a shockwave that blew through the trees, knocking branches loose and sending frightened birds streaming into the night air. Fire rose into the night and a plume of smoke stood out against the stars. Instantly sirens reached her ears, and before she knew it, she was moving. Almost as an afterthought she glanced back towards the grave. She was all alone.

Sally streamed along the forest path, reaching on the inside of her jacket pocket and pulling out the Python. She checked to make sure that the chambers were all loaded and slipping it back into its recessed holster. Though she was a civilian at this point, she was still licensed by both the UEG and the Kingdom to carry a concealed, or even open weapon should the need arise. Tonight it came in force.

Part of the castle was on fire; emergency vehicles already appearing. She ran as hard as she could, feeling muscles pulling and tearing, but still she moved and even in formal wear leaped over bushes and low walls. There were more blasts from within the hall where only half an hour before she was inside of. Her eyes widened. This was where the diplomats were. A hole the size of a large truck had been blown out of the wall, exposing part of the hallway wthin.

She saw SIU constables starting to file in. They saw her and then her weapon. In response, Sally lowered the Python and showed her right hand, a signit on her ring finger. Instantly, the police backed down and fell into step behind her.  
Sally breached the hole in the wall first, gun back up and scanning the area. She noted metal scraps on the floor, but near it, the familiar sight of carbonized bone. She knelt and looked at a piece closely.

"Highness?" one of the constables asked.

"Legion." Sally said simply.

The ears of the SIU troopers ducked in fear and anger. A few started whispering.

"That's enough!" she barked. "Secure the area!"

They jerked in surprise, but nodded and split up, clearing rooms while she investigated the site of the detonation. She wondered at the size of the hole and realized that this detonation was larger than the ones back on Tribute. They were upping their load.

She realized what she was supposed to be doing and broke into a dead run towards the main hall, where the majority of the revelers were. Castle guards were streaming up and down the hallways ensuring that servants were safe. It wasn't long until Sally found a file of Marines double-timing it along the same corridor. She smiled, assured. There was always a garrison of the UNSC in the castle.

"Staff Sergeant!" She called out. The Human in command of the unit, a man with dark skin and a thin face, turned to look at her.

"Sergeant Major Acorn!" She identified herself. Though she wasn't really in active duty, she was sure that these men would want to get the job done. Besides, the head of state trumped all. "Point of contact is likely main hall. Have your men follow me and prepare to fire at will. Targets are capable of suicide bombing!"

The staff sergeant, whose nametag said Singh, nodded. "Understood." he said.

"Stay in a staggered column and keep your weapons up!" Sally called. "Triple-time, gentlemen!"

The scene was chaos. The main hall had tables flipped, banners punctured by shrapnel, and on the floor were more than a few bodies dressed in finery. Black cloth, grey wool, and satiny blue were mixed with splotches of red where the partygoers had fallen. Sally looked around frantically for a red dress and blond hair, but a sigh was mixed with a cry of relief when she could not see them, no matter how hard she looked. Secondly, she looked for her parents, but still found no such bodies about. They were always resourceful. However, among the dead were senators and mayors; most of them Mobian, but she spotted the famous Human actor Stephano Viabello. lying back, with mouth open and gasping for air. He had a tablecloth pressed to his gut tightly. Sally had seen many of his movies; many of them action films. He would have been trained to perform basic first aid. Others, like a senator from the planet Constance, were not so lucky and stopped struggling before they got there.

"Sweep and clear!" Sally commanded. "Keep weapons up! These guys infiltrate!"

Singh nodded. "Watch your backs." He commanded. "Partygoers may be potential bombers. Jessup, take Marquez, Kole and Powell up the left side of the hall. Hong, Kurita, Fallows, get the right. Everyone else sweep up the center aisle."

Sally proceeded though, her gun barrel pointed at a forty-five degree angle. She felt the fire on her face and her eyes felt dry. She blinked to keep them alert and to get the tears away. They had attacked her home. They Legion had the sheer brazen balls to do so on New Year's Eve. She fantasized about closing her fingers around Kintobor's neck and squeezing until...

Someone grabbed her leg. She gasped and pointed her gun down at a wounded Human male with alabaster skin. He was shaved bald, perhaps forty; face creased with worry as hey lay halfway under an overturned table.

"Help." he said weakly with an accent from the Deep South, much like Bunnie. Oh God, she was here too. "Help, highness." he said.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked. Let's get this table off of you. Staff Sergeant!" she called out to Singh, who came running over, weapon drawn. The man under the table looked concerned.

"I need help lifting this table, Staff." Sally said. "Grab that other end and yank it free."

"Got it, Sergeant Major." Singh nodded. Together, they crouched down to grab the heavy maple table. "On three?"

"Sure." Sally said. "One..."

Two cracks rang out. She was deafened and jumped back, gun out and firing at the prone man, who now had a small handgun out. The shots struck him in the back. The man cried out, dropped the gun, and Sally kicked it away just as it hit the floor. It skittered away into the blaze.

"Singh!" Sally cried out. "Staff!"

The staff sergeant lay on the ground, gently touching the two bullet wounds at his heart. He pulled his hand away and looked at the ruby red on his skin before slumping back unconscious.

Weapon-fire rang out across the hallway. Marines began to take incoming from supposed corpses now on their feet. The attackers were Human and Mobian alike, suddenly grasping weapons that threw orange streaks downrange.

These weapons were silver in color and components were twitching around them. A flurry of bolts darted across the stone hall, seeking out the Marines who ran for cover behind the pillars of the hallway.

Sally had seen these weapons before. Hard Light firearms. These were Forerunner wapons.

She barely had time to contemplate when she saw another form run towards her. She was once in a flowing and beautiful cream and yellow-colored dress, but now she had bulky cargoes and a muscle shirt. Bunnie Rabbot skidded to a halt near her friend, ears folded back, teeth gritted, and her new metal arm clenched into a fist.

"Get down!" she said, yanking Sally off her feet. Bunnie kicked over a table and used it for cover, just as a trio of bolts sailed over their heads. She set her friend loose and pressed a vew buttons on her arm. It made a series of flourishes and when it was done, her forearm was a barrel. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a plasma magazine, slapping it into place. The end of the barrel began to crackle with cyan lightning.

"What happened?" Sally asked.

"Nobody saw it coming." she said, her accent magnified by anger. "A few minutes after the ball dropped people were staring to dance. Then a few of them just... went off."

"I thought we were looking for them! How could the Legion get inside here?"

"I don't know." Bunnie said shaking her head. "Are you hurt, hon?"

"No. I wasn't here."

Bunnie's eyes darted. "Well you missed the worst of it. Police are coming but..." she glanced above the makeshift barricade. "I think this one's for the Humans to mop up."

A blur shot past them. A Legionnaire spy was thrown off his feet and flew back ten feet before slumping. The blur moved to another, and another, taking the spies off guard. The remainder saw that the fight was one sided and pulled back. In the blink of an eye, Sonic the Hedgehog skidded to a halt behind the table. Sally regarded him. He was still in tuxedo pants and undershirt, but he had discarded his jacket to allow him to move freely. He was not unharmed though, a few cuts scored his face and his true fur color was visible in some places.

"Got a few more out to the EMTs." Sonic said.

"How's Amy and the kids?"

"They're fine." Sonic breathed. "I got Sonia and Manic out first with them." she looked at Sally. "I got Freddie and Sasha out too."

Sally cried out again and kissed Sonic deeply on the cheek. "Thank you!"

"It's OK." he said, shrugging it off. "These rats are all over the castle. Looks like they wanted to shake things up."

"Why?"

"Why did they do this now? Sounds like a message. 'Ha ha, we know were you live and can hit you any time'. Here's what I think about that." He reached into his pants pockets and pulled out what Sally recognized instantly as a set of knuckle dusters. "Nobody threatens my kids." Sonic said. "Nobody. Gloves are off in the new year. Save some champagne for me, eh guys?"

He streaked off, heading elsewhere. Bunnie leapt up to cover his escape. Plasma leapt from the barrel of her arm cannon, striking down another Legionnaire agent, a female equine. This one had a failsafe, and she exploded in a fireball, taking out two nearby spies.

Sally wondered why some now had the explosive implants and some didn't. Perhaps this was how they didn't spot very many? Now was the time to move. The surviving Marines and Bunnie were putting pressure on the spies. She checked the chambers of her Python and exited cover, firing off two more .357 rounds to strike a spy just below the arm. He crumpled wordlessly. His partner, a Human woman in a red dress instantly saw this and backed behind a pillar. The Marines however now had a clear shot and fired on her position. The woman screamed out in pain and fell.

"Clear right!" Master Corporal Hong shouted.

"Left's hot!" the other squad leader, Corporal Jessup, called. "Bad guy taking cover near throne, left side!"

"Understood!" Hong said. "Advance right and engage hostile! Fallows, get some suppressing fire on target!"

"Aye-aye, Master Corporal!" Fallows called, diving to the carpeted floor and unfolding the bipod on his AIE-997 Light Machine Gun. The belt fed weapon immediately roared as nine-hundred rounds per minute were fired towards the thrones where Corporal Fallows had tagged targets. In everyone's VISRs, an outline of a Legionnaire was now visible.

"Hostile now engaging!" Jessup called. "He's got an arm gun!"

Immediately the left flank took cover as the Legionnaire's arm transformed into a rotary cannon. A deafening hum filled the throne room as Fallows' 900 RPM was doubled by the Legionnaire's cannon. Fallows continued to fire; shell casings ejecting from his weapon like a brass fountain. His weapon stopped firing.

"Fallows! Status!" Hong called.

"Feed jam, Master Corporal!" Fallows called. "He's got eyes on me!"

Fallows rolled out of the way just as Bunnie stood up and sent a salvo down the hall, interrupting the firing of the Legionnaire, who ducked down, allowing Jessup's group to move forward.

"Getting cover fire from the bunny girl!" Jessup said.

"Never thought I'd hear that." Hong breathed before surrounding the trapped cyborg, who stood up again defiantly, firing a burst towards Fallows, who was moving slower than the others due to his heavy weapon.

"Someone cover my ass, man!" Fallows cried out. "Take him out, guys!"

Sally stood and fired two rounds from the revolver. The .357 slugs spiraled from the Python at eighteen-hundred feet a second, smacking the Legionnaire in the gut. What she didn't expect was the ricochet straight into the wall. The second was deflected right up into the roof.

"Keep on him! Looks like he's padded!" Hong shouted.

A few 'aye-aye's came from the group, guns firing. The bullets ricocheted off. The Legionnaire ripped off the coat entirely, showing an armored body. Plates were embedded in every single place imaginable. Only the face seemed Human. The second hand turned into another rotary gun, and the cyborg returned fire.

Powell took several shots to the abdomen and fell backwards grunting and groaning, weapon firing wildly.

"Man down!" Jessup called. "Help!"

"Keep shooting!" Hong shouted. "Take him down! Take the bastard down now!"

The Legionnaire charged forward towards the group of Marines. Jessup and Kurita retreated, firing as they ran. However, the mechanical man was faster and caught up with them. He grabbed Kurita by the arm and threw him against a pillar at the other end of the room. Before he could grab Jessup though, Sally fired the remaining two rounds in the back of his head. Despite the clear kill shot and close range, the rounds did nothing.

The Legionnaire turned, eyes flashing and a small spread across his lips. "Wondered where you were." He said, his voice low and gravelly; shockingly normal compared to his heavily augmented frame. "Say hello to your bastard boyfriend."

Sonic came from nowhere, leaping into the air and striking the Legionnaire across the face, cracking his head to one side. Blood arced in the air and splattered against the stone. The cyborg spun around, temporarily losing his balance while Sonic ran towards one of the pillars, and using this momentum, shot back for another strike, which sounded like metal clanging against metal. Once more the soldier was dazed. It was enough for the hedgehog to grab at the man's collar and strike against him again and again. However, the effect wore off. The Legionnaire grabbed Sonic's wrist, drew his head back, and slammed it against the hedgehog's skull with a sharp motion. Now the Mobian was dazed and tossed away not far from where Kurita's prone form was.

Sally was out of ammunition. She broke open the action to eject the spent shells that rang around her, but before she could feed more into the chambers, she saw the cyborg's eyes being to glow.

"For the Legion!"

The man's upper half vanished in a mist of blood and metal. The metallic lower half teetered and collapsed, trailing hydraulic fluid and blood into the carpets. Sally was dumbstruck, moon clip still in her hand and the Python cracked open. She waited, still not sure what had just happened. The Marines were silent. She and Bunnie were silent, and Sonic was only starting to raise his head. Sally rushed to him.

"Are you OK?"

"I don't know." Sonic said, touching his skull. "Forget about me; how are you?"

"We need to get you to a doctor."

"Nah, I'm cool." He said, slowly rising to his feet. "I'm cool."

She didn't believe it for a second, noticing a slur in his words. He could have had a concussion, but she didn't say anything.

"What happened?" she asked, "He was ready to blow."

"Timing is everything." A smug female voice sounded. When Sally turned, she saw a giant in green armor. A golden visor greeted her vision. On his breastplate, spray-painted in white lettering, was '117'.

"John!" Sally said, overjoyed.

"That's OK, I'm just the help." Came the female voice once more, whom Sally also knew well.

"Cortana." She said.

"Still kicking." The AI responded. "Chief, the area looks clear, but we should make sure more of these civilians aren't faking."

"Understood." The Spartan solemnly said. Two more armored forms flanked him, guns up. "Kim, take the left, Armand on the right."

They moved without words, but gave curt nods. It was only now that Sally recognized that the Lieutenant was carrying a long and wicked-looking anti-materiel rifle in his gauntlets. It was long and heavy, with an oversized bolt handle to cycle the mammoth rounds that the gun fired, judging by its bore. The round had annihilated the Legionnaire, and blew a divot almost two feet deep behind him. John worked the bolt, ejecting the huge shell. It made a deep ringing noise like a church bell compared to the smaller caliber rounds in the Marines' rifles.

"Marines, detain the civilians." John ordered.

"Yes, sir." Hong said. The Master Corporal was now the one in charge since Singh's vital monitors flat lined after he was shot. Sally returned to where the man lay and saw that he wasn't breathing. However, the man that she had fired at twice still was. His own respiration was rapid, shallow, and raspy, as if he was fighting for his life. If he was pretending to be dead, he wasn't doing a good job at it.

"John!" Sally called out. "This one's still breathing!"

The Spartan slung the massive rifle over his back and walked over to the table. With a quick motion of his wrist, 117 lifted it as easily was a child would lift a sheet of cardboard. He flung it back and it landed on its supports with a deep and dull impact. The Lieutenant reached onto his belt and extracted canisters of biofoam, injecting them into the Legionnaire spy.

"Why didn't he detonate?" Sally asked.  
Cortana answered, "I'm not detecting any explosive devices within his body. No accelerants, no fuses… as a matter of fact I'm only detecting minimal implants, and those are mostly bone density supplements and a chip in the brain."

"So he's Legion, but not implanted? That makes no sense."

Bunnie walked over. "Feel like giving the son of a bitch a good kick in the teeth." She hissed. "Murderers; all of them."

There were more injections, and before long, the man's breathing steadied.

"No." he groaned. "Let me die."

"Guess it's not your lucky day." Sally said with a cold smile. "Think you can attack my home and get away with it?"

"We did get away with it."

She glanced over at the Marines clearing the room. "You must have a messed up definition of success."

"Nobody saw us." The man coughed. "Nobody detected us. We can do it once; we can do it again. You aren't safe. We know who you are, and who your family is. We can find you anywhere. Tonight was a point proven. We own you."

Sally stepped forward and started to raise her gun hand, but Bunnie's own metallic hand pressed it back down.

"Go ahead." The man dared.

"You're going to tell us everything you know. Dead man can't talk."

The man smiled. "You're damn right." He said, before he closed his eyes and seized up.

Everyone jumped back at the sudden screaming. The man's body arched once, twice, stiffened for a moment, and then slumped limp.

Silence. The fire glinted off the dead man's eyes, but his face had a strange frozen smile on it.

"Brainwave function terminated." Cortana announced. "I should have seen it. That chip must have overloaded his nervous system. Even their spies are rigged for suicide."

"Cyanide's cheaper." John said in an undertone.

Bunnie tried not to look at the body. "What did he mean? Tonight was a point proven?"

"They're screwing with us." Sally said. "They're trying to divert our attention from what the rest of the Legion's up to." She glanced to Sonic and asked, "Did they get to Ops at all?"

"No." the hedgehog said. "They were mostly in the corridors all around the castle. They were all spaced out."

"Any word from mom and dad?"

"They're safe."

"EMTs are airlifting survivors out." Cortana announced. "You saved a lot of lives tonight, blue."

Sonic half-smiled, "Good deed for the day, right?"

"I have to talk to Andsworth." Sally said.

"That's actually what we were here to talk to you about." Cortana said after a beat.

"What do you mean?" Sally asked.

Now another voice joined them. Sultry and pompous with just the right amount of detachment. Once again, it was a voice that the princess knew well.

"More like ONI needs to speak with you." Said Rouge the Bat, stepping from the darkness. Her midnight black jumpsuit standing out against the flames and the smoke, with the exception of a chestplate painted pink among the black in the rough shape of a heart; mixing vanity with function.

Sally scowled. She wanted nothing to do with Naval Intelligence. "Get out of here." She said.

"This isn't a request. The UEG government specifically asked for you to be present. It's quite important."

"This isn't the time!" Sally shouted. "Look at this! We need to find out who's behind this!"

"We will take care of that." Rouge said. "We already have people looking in to this. You are needed elsewhere because of what was found on Requiem."

Sally froze. She looked at John. "Weren't you…"

"I recommend you listen to what she has to say, ma'am." The Spartan said in a low voice.

Sally glanced back. Rouge made no movement at first, judging whether or not Sally was receptive to her words.

"I have a letter from Admiral Redby. He requests your presence immediately at the location mentioned here."

"Letter?" Sally asked.

Rouge nodded. "ONI doesn't believe this information should be in digital format. Everything related to the outcome of this mission has been declared above top secret. All relevant information will be included in a hand-written packet for you to review." She reached into a side pocket of her uniform and pulled out an envelope, marked with a barcode, and the pyramid symbol of the Office of Naval Intelligence. No other form of writing was present, with the exception of a military law code on the back.

Sally took it, and opened it. Bunnie got close.

"That's far enough, O'Hare."

The rabbit frowned deeply at the usage of her real name and stared at Rouge with a dark look in her eyes. "You think I'm one of them too, shugah?"

"You'll get a copy if you need to know." Rouge said simply. "Back off or I can have you arrested."

Reluctantly, Bunnie did so, looking steamed.

Sally unfolded the message, and began to read. It was a short message; perhaps three paragraphs long, written in spidery yet clearly legible handwriting.

-

 _'SUB: Asset Acquired_  
 _TO: S.A._

 _I believe we can agree that this information should remain in physical format. We believe several of our communications are being monitored, partially by those we think are spies for the Legion. We have no idea how deeply inserted they are. Finitevus and Kintobor have started sending scattered agents deep into industrial areas and shipyards to disrupt our manufacturing capabilities. We are still as of yet unaware of their location._

 _However, the purpose of his message is to inform you that the operation at Requiem has yielded results that cannot be described. You are hereby required to be present at a meeting to determine future actions and it is believed that your involvement during the events of three years prior may be of importance, specifically data recovered from an asset now deceased. We believe that information that he shared with you may be of use. We will explain more when you are present. Agent Rouge and Lieutenant 117 will bring you to the location where planning will be conducted._  
 _I cannot stress enough how this information must remain top-secret. I cannot explain more, except that the asset recovered will make our assault on the Prisoner a realistic strategy. You are to report to the Sedna facility in EUS-Prime for further instructions as soon as you are delivered this message._

 _Best regards, and good luck,_

 _. Hugh Redby, UNSC HIGHCOM'_

-

Sally looked at the message twice, tried to parse some meaning from it, but couldn't. She tried to look at the Spartan for some tell, but obviously found none. She tried with Rouge and received the same result.

"What did it say?" Bunnie asked. "Sal, what's wrong?"

"I…" she said, thinking about what this could possibly entail. "I have a guess, but I don't know…." She stopped, looked at the letter one last time, and then tossed it into a fire. "I have to go."

"Trust me," Rouge said watching the princess walk past without a second glance, "You don't want to keep this one waiting."

But Sally didn't respond. She simply walked out of the room. Rouge took a deep breath, sighed, and said, "Let's go, John."

"Are we clear?" the Spartan asked. Both Kim and Armand nodded, coming back to their leader as he too left.

In a moment, Bunnie and Sonic were left on their own. The Marine behind them were providing medical aid while restraining survivors. However, they felt quite alone despite everything.

"You ever feel like we're left out of the loop, hon?" Bunnie asked.

"Every day." Sonic admitted. "She went back to the grave again?"

Bunnie nodded, not saying anything. "I'm worried about her."

"So am I." Sonic said. "What do you think they want her for?"

"She looked like she saw a ghost. I don't think I want to know."

They stood in silence for a minute longer contemplating their best friend and her future, then went to go help the survivors.


	15. Chapter 14: The Sedna Facility

Chapter 14: The Sedna Facility  
January 1, 3242, 2020 hours  
The _Black Bat_  
The Kuiper Belt, Sol System  
Home Universe

It had been over thirty hours since Sally had slept, and that time was starting to catch up to her. She slumped into the copilot's seat of the _Black Bat_ with her third cup of enriched coffee in her hand. She was alone for now, staring at the blackness of Slipspace in front of her. The void was infinite and so black that at a subconscious level it unnerved her, but she chose to shut it out and instead take a pull on the cup, letting the hot liquid within sustain her and drive her to push on for just a few more hours. There had been little time to waste in crossing over to Earth, which had been difficult to do since the reopening of the Jumpgate following what was now being called the '1840 Incident' by military journalists. The _Ontario, Bastogne,_ and the _Colorado_ had simply become the latest in an increasing list of lost vessels that had vanished and never returned on excursions.

Sally tried not to think about who she had lost, but again the faces showed up. Miles, Jolee, Johnson, Ryan...

She banished the thought and tried to think of her current situation.

The Black Bat had set off from Earth on an intrasystem jump, which followed different rules due to the gravitational influences of the planets themselves. Different calculations had to be applied; different physical laws needed to be followed, and in the end, travel time needed to be observed. Sally could swear that subjectively this was taking way more time than needed. What if they had already arrived and their reality had yet to catch up.

Her eyebrows bobbed as she took another sip, contemplating reality.

She was a mess. She could see in the reflection of the viewport that her hair was unkempt, her eyes were bloodshot, and her fur was matted in a few places. She was in no position to present herself to the admiralty, or at the very least Redby, whom she knew liked things squared away. Then again, she wasn't wearing a Marine uniform. She was going as herself. Truly, she didn't give a damn what they thought she looked like.

The computers hummed, chirped, and clicked. She could listen and hear the faintest humming of the Slipspace core of the _Black Bat_. She closed her eyes and pictured the particles racing around the loops of the drive, smashing into each other and producing energy that people a thousand years ago couldn't have imagined, when nuclear power was just getting its legs; when the moon was the farthest mankind had ever stepped from their doorstep. She was very lucky to live in the time she did.

She heard a noise and her ear twitched. She glanced around and saw Rouge coming through the hatch, a similar cup in her hand. She was in an off duty uniform of an ONI officer: a black turtleneck and tan cargo pants. Her boots were also black and shiny. Sally could note slight puffiness in her sleeves where her wings were tucked away out of sight. She very rarely saw them, and indeed the princess thought the bat-folk in general were kind of self-conscious of them, preferring to have them tucked away when not in use so that they blended in more.

Rouge set her cup down in a holder and rubbed her eyes, sliding behind the main console and tapping several keys.

"How's John?" Sally asked.

"He's fine." Rouge said. "Exercising in the hold. I think he's on five hundred pushups."

"I should go see him." Sally said. "I should talk to him about Requiem."

"No." Rouge said. "The admirals are going to debrief you on that one."

"Why can't I just talk to him? He's only a hundred feet behind me!"

"None of it will make sense without the whole picture, including what you know."

"What do I know exactly?" Sally asked, suddenly annoyed. "I don't know what's going on?"

"Better if you just accept it and wait until they ask the specific questions."

The chipmunk began to rise.

"Go ahead. You know he's not going to say anything to you." Rouge pressed. "You know he's tight lipped. Been that way since we found him in the _Dawn_."

Sally sighed loudly and sank back into the plush seat. "I know. He never lets anyone in to his world. You think all Spartans were like that in his time?"

"I think John's always been unique."

"Linda must have missed him very much."

Rouge looked at Sally. "You read his file?"

"Sounds like you did too."

Neither said anything for a moment, but the princess broke it first by asking, "How far have you gone in this thing?"

"You mean on a mission?" Rouge asked.

"Mission, treasure hunting, sanctioned thievery, whatever you like to call it. ONI gives you carte blanche to do your thing as long as you take orders from them from time to time?"

"It's not that simple." Rouge said. "I have my orders too. I'm Section 0 for a reason you know. Sometimes I'm out on... business trips, let's call them."

"What sort of business trips?"

Rouge gave a slight smirk. "Trading reports that would be kept off the Slipspace channels, monitoring black projects, doing some long range recon, maybe a little bit of problem solving."

"Uh, 'problem solving'? Sounds like assassination."

"Problem solving covers a wide variety of things." Rouge said. "Oh hell, why not. This was about two years ago. I received orders from a vice admiral, that I shall not name, to go and speak to a deep cover agent that wasn't sending reports to his superiors back in Sydney, yet everybody knew he was alive because of secondary spies. They sent me to check up on him and ask him what was so interesting to keep him from sending his reports."

"Why didn't the other spy talk to him?"

"Deep cover, Highness. ONI had the whole thing planned out. They had this operation running since before _Indomitable_ showed up. The other spy couldn't actually be in real communication with our guy. So I had to infiltrate into where he was working and spoke to him directly."

"Did he know you were a Mobian?"

"No. Bit of a shock for him at first, and I was in disguise for most of those times. He gave me his reasons, and I didn't like them. That is to say Bravo-6 didn't like them. So one day I got orders to cut our losses with him."

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

"No." Rouge said honestly. "My orders were to make it known that there was a spy from a rival faction and that our guy was the one to throw to the wolves. Killing him would have made it too suspicious. Needless to say when I actually told our agent about the plans, he promised he would never leave us out of the loop ever again."

"That's just dickish."

"That's business. We extracted him a year and a half later when he did his job, and now he has a cushy job somewhere. As a reward for putting myself in harm's way multiple times, ONI let slip a little info about a mineral deposit I could use to my advantage. I sold the find to a mining guild, and bought a house on the Amalfi Coast. Haven't been there yet though."

"Amazing." Sally said.

"To answer your question, that was also the farthest I've ever been. This was well outside UEG space, past the Buffer. This is where a bunch of trade republics like to bash heads with one another and occasionally form an empire before collapsing in a century or two. That was perhaps fifteen or sixteen thousand lightyears away."

"Does it ever get lonely?"

Rouge didn't say anything for a long time, but nodded.

Neither of them said anything for some time afterwards, when the console began to light up. "OK, we dropping out now. Hold on to the java."

The darkness vanished in an instant. replaced by an amazing array of stars. Sally was awestruck by the sight at once. They were in the Kuiper Belt; the farthest reaches of the Sol system. Out here, the light from the far distant star was diminished but still present. In the expanse, the purple ribbon of the milky way stretched across the void, bright clouds of gas and dust containing a scattering of stars, otherwise drowned out by the light of Sol.

Sedna stood before it all. Even this far away from the light of the star Sol, it still retained a lit surface. The airless rock in front of them had a red surface, part of the globe caught in the light of the sun was glistening as if it were frozen, and in truth, it was. Everything about this globe was remote, cold, and ignored by greater existence - one large body among many beyond the reaches of the outer Solar system. The women observed this little world before Rouge fired the thrusters to slow their velocity. The ship rumbled ever so slightly. The passengers barely felt the jets firing even though the cones of burning gas were visible at the edges of the craft's body. In truth it barely looked like it did anything at first, but Sally realized that the _Black Bat_ would slowly start swinging closer to the surface of the dwarf world.

She glanced at the instrument panel, showing that their apoapsis had shrunk considerably, coming only a couple hundred kilometers above the pockmarked surface. As soon as their approach was set, the panel showed a blinking light. Rouge pressed it, accepting the call.

"Unidentified craft, you are entering restricted airspace. You are ordered to disengage, alter trajectory, and enter Slipstream on exit vector."

"Sedna Command, _Black Bat,_ tail code Alpha-X-ray-Five-Seven-Zero-Zero. ID Sig Four-Four-Niner-Seven-One-Zero-Zero-Alpha-Two. Transmitting additional code. Stand by."

She pressed several buttons on the panel, located the source of the signal, attached the standard handshake packet, and fired it off. Silence for ten seconds. The _Bat_ started to tumble, but the RCS systems fired, keeping the craft level.

"Verification complete. Welcome back to Sedna, _Black Bat._ Stand by for transfer to Echo Tower."

The red ball of Sedna suddenly seemed to start rising up over them. Sally glanced up at the world, counting new craters as they appeared. This world was ancient, and was likely still covered in gas from when it was formed so long ago. She wondered just what this dwarf planet experienced. Sedna had an orbit lasting over 11,000 years. It hadn't even reached the farthest point from the sun since it was discovered back at the dawn of the Twenty-First Century. Not even close.

"Let me do the talking." Rouge breathed. "I've been here before. I know the angles. You are officially here as an attache. You might be an OMEGA, but here ONI's top dog. You do what I say when I say it. Understand?"

Sally pressed her lips together tightly. "Yes." was all she said before sipping the coffee once more. "Why have bases all the way out here? Why not have them closer in-system?"

"Why would you ever put a base on a world that takes more than ten thousand years to orbit all the way out here in the boonies?"

"Who's going to come out here?"

"Bingo." Rouge said, winking. "ONI loves their secrecy."

"Tell me about it."

"ONI Prowler _Black Bat,_ Echo Tower." a new female voice said. "Confirm acknowledgement for override."

" _Black Bat_ acknowledges override, Tower. Wheel's yours."

The stick left the agent's hands, moving on its own. The ONI officers below must have been bringing them in; obviously not trusting their own spy to pilot in on her own. Sally's eyes darted around. Very rarely had she ever been in a situation where a groundside operator would take over a whole ship. What would have happened if they refused the override?"

She didn't think about it as the phantom operator controlled their craft, the fly-by wire systems still engaged. The prowler flipped again so that it was facing the reverse vector of its motion. They also began to roll, small puffs of thrusters flipping them over. The horizon of Sedna had become flatter and flatter, and was now located beneath them. Sally risked a glance at the icy surface. The glare of the sun reflecting off the ground. She could see that there were small installations built into the ground. They perhaps a few miles wide at most encompassing a few prefabricated surface buildings, satellite dishes, or a few domes that she supposed were some sort of scanning equipment. Every now and again they flew over a complex of tanks, pipes and scaffolding that may have been a refinery. Soon though the engines fired in earnest, this time at full throttle. She shook in her seat as the _Black Bat_ was brought to a near stand-still. Her teeth rattled in her skull for nearly a full minute of braking. Soon though they started dropping towards what she now saw was a sprawling base, with taller buildings, large dishes, and small craft darting around in the air. On the surface, small rovers moved slowly but surely. One caught air and practically soared through vacuum, bouncing on generous suspension as it hit the dirt.

" _Black Bat_ stand by. Touchdown in three, two.."

The ship bounced as the landing gear made contact with the surface.

"Touchdown. Welcome back to Sedna. Initiating remote engine disengage. Returning control to operator."

The pad began to sink into the ground, lowered on a giant elevator. The stars above were only visible through a long shaft. Even this was blocked from view by giant doors that shut every now and again. Two minutes later, the lift stopped softly, but with finality.

Rouge unclipped her harness and stepped up, making sure to take generous gulps of her drink. "Make sure you drink as much as you can. They never serve any good coffee here. Even the beer's nasty."

"I don't drink beer." Sally said, unclipping her own seat restraints.

"Then you're not going to fit in here."

"That's too bad."

The exterior was pressurized gradually, and the pair emerged from the craft by the gangplank exit. The base had a comfortable 1g pull compared to the exterior. Sally could feel that she was comfortable in this environment, even though as she slipped out of the _Black Bat_ 's own gravity generation she could feel a momentary queasiness before her stomach settled.

Behind them, John had silently joined, suited up in his suit of MJOLNIR armor, as was his custom. John didn't like to leave his armor unattended and would wear it even without real reason to do so in a formal environment. Even among other Spartans he insisted on this. Sally could not understand it. For all either the princess or the agent could tell, he was communicating with Cortana within his suit, remaining eerily silent to the outside world.

The instant that the trio passed through the airlocks leading to the landing pad, Sally was assailed once more by the ONI aesthetic that she had grown so comfortable with - stark white corridors with black tiling and wall detail. They must have been several dozen meters below the ground, yet the hallways were as elegant as they were back on Earth. She was immediately reminded of the Bravo-6 facility that she had the misfortune of visiting on more than one occasion, the first of which was under less than favorable conditions indeed. However, unlike the facility in Sydney, the hallways were far more narrow and segmented, betraying the fact that they were prefabricated and modular. Even ONI had to consider the limitations of building on another planetary body like this.

They hadn't gone far past the airlock when a man in a uniform, tie, and cap met them. Two stars were clipped on his shoulders.

"Admiral on deck." John declared, hand snapping to his armored temple. Rouge copied the gesture just as quickly. Sally however was a civilian now and wasn't bound by the same rules. Regarless, out of sheer habit, the hand came up.

Rear Admiral Hugh Redby strode gracefully up to them, came to a position of attention, and saluted back. "I think ceremony can wait for this one. Glad you all could make it on short notice. Spartan, Commander, Highness."

He addressed them all in turn. Sally had forgotten on more than one occasion that Rouge actually outranked her technically. This was one of those times, and a quick glance at the three golden bars stitched onto her shoulder reinforced the rank envy that she felt every single time. Why had she insisted on capping at an E-9?

She knew why; she wanted her Human to have say in combat. She had read his record the instant they had been assigned as Protector, and later commanding field officer of OMEGA. She knew that in battle he would have had the experience needed to succeed. But now things were different. Her experience now outstripped his own.

She wondered how Christopher would have tackled the Legion? She thought he probably would have ended up drawing a blank. This sort of warfare was not something he had ever experienced. Not even his experience with Overlander Marauders nor Forerunners seemed comparable to what Kintobor's walking bombs had thrown at her. Not even surviving a nuclear explosion could prepare him for this cruelty.

So she had remained as a Sergeant Major. The highest an NCO could get without special appointment. Though now she technically had no rank. She was dressed as a civilian. The bat-woman would get special intel before her. Why didn't she apply for a promotion when she had the chance? Why didn't they just give her the clearance?

In her circular thoughts, she wandered and sometimes strayed from a straight line. John could tell and saved her from running into a side support, gently steering her away by the shoulder. She didn't even notice as her mind was burdened by minutia.

Why had they drawn her out to this speck on the edge of the solar system? What was so important that they weren't even allowed to pilot their own ship down to the surface? What was so important that they had to walk through halls specifically designed to drive a man mad?

Once again, John intervened as they turned a corner. This time, the Spartan spoke.

"You alright?"

"Hmm?" Sally asked, the spell now broken. "I was just thinking."

"I could see that."

Another turn, but the princess made it easily.

"John, can I ask you a question?"

He made a motion that could have been a nod, but she didn't seem a hundred-percent certain of it. She spoke anyway, "Are you ever bothered about being left in the dark?"

The answer was immediate. "No."

"Never?"

"Never." the Human responded. "We do our job. We trust in our orders. We don't complain."

"Is it just a Spartan thing, or do you think people in particular should feel that way?"

There was a beat, but he said, "Yes."

Rouge spoke next. Sally was only vaguely aware that she was listening to everything she said. "I need you to go into this with no preconceptions. This is not something I just want to throw out there."

"Bullshit." She casually cursed. "Tell me everything, and tell me now."

The Spartan spoke once more. "If you aren't going to listen to her, then listen to me."

She tried to make eye contact with the gold visor, but failed to do so. Good god, maybe she was going crazy.

Redby cleared his throat. "The next section is heavily guarded. You are not to speak of anything you see beyond, highness. I needed a near majority of signatures to add you to the list of approved entrances."

"Who didn't vouch for me? China?"

Redby attempted a smile. His lined face betrayed that it was only a pleasantry.

They passed through four doors. The first two were guarded by military police officers, their inverted chevrons indicating that they were Army NCOs. The third door was guarded by black armored ONI security personnel, affectionately known as 'Midnighters' because of that and the unrelieved white faceplate that when viewed from the right angle, looked a bit like a crescent moon. Finally, the last door was guarded by a pair of armed Spartans, both toting cut down semi-automatic shotguns. Though Sally wouldn't consider herself a master gunsmith, she could tell that the actions were modified based on the exposed portions of the bolt. She would have bet any money that these weapons had hair triggers and quicker mechanics to spray double-aught buck down the fifteen foot chamber in the blink of an eye.

The Spartans' amor was angular and betrayed an air of eerie mystery that awakened a primal fear in the base of her skull - a vestigial response a thousand or two generations back when her ancestors climbed from trees and fled at the merest hint of a threat. The helmets were boxy things with no indications that the thing inside was Human. They could have been robots for all she knew. Were it not for nametags painted in smart white on their breasts, or the Senior Chief Petty Officer ranks on their shoulders, she would have assumed so. They were impossibly still. They betrayed no motion whatsoever, and that frightened her. She glanced at John. She knew what the man looked like underneath that armored exterior. She knew his face. These men were complete mysteries. This must have been what John's enemies saw before they died.

Redby raised an ID badge to the SCPO on the left. Suddenly the Spartan was animated, his body loosening and head moving before the ID was confirmed. He snapped to and his trigger hand snapped to his helmet.

"Welcome back, Admiral." the Spartan said in an overly nasally voice.

Sally entertained the thought of a Spartan needing rhinoplasty. It was the first smile of the day.

The final door opened just as quickly and silently as the others. It revealed an elevator car.

Sally was confused. She didn't understand the need for such security involving an elevator, but after the car started to descend, it occurred to her that there was something very secret waiting at the bottom. She lost track of how long they were within the car, possibly a minute at the very least.

Nobody spoke. Redby kept his eyes forward towards the door and Rouge did the same. As for John, who knew where he was staring.

The only indication of the stop was a slight ping from the elevator's computer. The doors slid apart.

"He's in here." Redby said. "Down the hall. We'll bring him in for you."

"Who's 'he'?" the princess asked. "What's going on?"

John gave her a slight tug on the arm. She freed herself quickly and followed the Spartan, furious at the secrecy. However, the next room she saw was some sort of meeting chamber with high ceilings and vaulted corridors far too big for such a space. Massive computer screens dominated the walls that displayed maps of the Sol system, with one in particular showing a map of the Milky Way galaxy with several bubbles of red. Sally believed that these were conflict areas that the UNSC had found itself in - wars that had popped up that needed attention. Most she realized were beyond UEG-controlled space. In the very center of the galaxy was a massive red dot with lines of text streaming alongside it.

It was cold in here, but not too frigid; possibly to keep the people that were to meet around the disk of dark wood on their toes. The lighting was excellent around the table, but poor enough around the edges of the room to conceal the Spartans standing in alcoves, hands behind their backs, midnight armor helping them blend into the black paneling. She took a deep breath, trying to parse anything from the air, but it was as sterile as the interior design, almost like a hospital.

Despite the chairs that were obviously meant to hold far more than were present, only four other people were in the room. Besides Redby, she only recognized one, that being Vice Admiral Andsworth, today dressed in a dark uniform and tie, peaked cap snug on his head.

She gave a curt nod to Andsworth. It was all she would allow herself under the circumstances. The other three were ranking officers in midnight black uniforms. All of them Naval Intelligence, and judging by the stars on their shoulders and collars, were all admirals themselves, two Humans and one Mobian, a thinly built mustelid, perhaps a wolverine.

"Are we secured?" Redby asked.

A nod from one of the alcoves.

"Alright, bring him in."

"You speak of me as an animal, Human."

Sally's ears peaked and her eyes grew wide. The voice sounded massive, full of power, full of thinly disguised hate, and what was more, sounded ever so slightly synthetic, as if fed through translators.

She heard footsteps; large thumping footsteps where metal met metal. She turned part way around to her right, and her jaw dropped.

Standing above her was a being that instantly gave her a fright. The thing blocked out the light of the roof, but she could make out the face - lined, somewhat twisted, and unmistakably alien. Around a powerful body the being wore ornately designed armor that seemed to flow like water, parts of it rising just above each other in an interweaving pattern of a material that she failed to classify.

The being saw the green-armored form of John-117 and scowled deeply, as if a deep ancestral hatred had been rooted in him since time immemorial.

"Your Highness," Redby said, "The Didact."

The alien drew itself to full height - four meters high. He towered above the diminutive five-foot-five that Sally commanded. Her ears ducked back, and at the base of her brain, a feeling of submission was rising in her consciousness. The Didact? The Promethean general?

She hadn't been there when her Human had told the others about the visions he had seen, that the Didact had been in them, but she had learned afterwards and sought to learn all she could, which wasn't very much. A strange feeling within her took over, and she dropped to one knee. In truth, if the history books were to be believed, even this would barely be enough to tribute such a figure.

She hung her head low and waited for acknowledgement. Her mind somehow recognized the figure's majesty. Why wouldn't it? She was a Reclaimer after all. It was in her blood. How long had it been since she had thought of that word?

The Didact regarded the woman, and then a small smile formed on his twisted face. He was reminded of a time when it was Humanity in this position, displaying submission. It was a good memory, the Battle of Charum Hakkor. Even considering the circumstances of being within his Cryptum he remembered the battle well. Even being back here, at Erde-Tyrene, brought back pleasant memories of crushing the belligerent Human race back when it had been a serious threat. These Humans were small, weak, fractured, trying to recapture their glory days through these pitiful combat skins, and best of all, incapable of mounting a defense without his help. How good it was to be at the top once more.

Perhaps he would entertain a touch longer.

"Now gaze upon this one, Humans. This is one who knows when she is in the presence of a true master of the Mantle. In my time, obedience was rewarded.", he said, inclining his head. He looked around, surveying the room. These Humans didn't know the meaning of the word 'respect'. Why he had accepted to work alongside them was a mystery as great as vast as the Neural Physics of the Precursors. They were lowly creatures, in no small part due to his actions. However those actions had been necessary. These new aliens, such as they were, knew how the world worked far better. "You may rise."

Sally did as instructed, still keeping her eyes low. Her mind raced with questions, but for now she kept them to herself. She could still scarcely believe who was standing in front of her. She had questions; so many questions. Did he know of the Prisoner?"

The Didact however regarded Sally. The Humans did not speak, but watched as the Promethean tilted his head as if trying to make sense of the princess.

"I rack my brains again and again, but yet I fail to recognize your kind, creature. My wife sheltered many creatures of the earth, sea, sky, and void. The Didact has a long memory, yet your face eludes me."

She spoke for the first time. "My kind is not of this world, my lord, Didact. We are from a world parallel to this one."

The Promethean paced. "'My lord', she says." he repeated. "Such a simple title, is it not, Humans? It denotes respect." his massive gravelly voice was cast about in the room as echoes. Even in an even tone, he was loud and projected his authority accordingly, "Even if I was forced to come down to this speck of a planetoid, on the hind edges of the system I brought to heel... someone shows respect."

He looked about, seeing Rouge. "What say you, spy?"

For a moment, Rouge said nothing, taken aback by the sudden address. "I am only serving as an intermediary, sir. My lord." she said, catching herself before the end. Rouge was not the bowing type no matter who was wearing the crown.

The Didact scowled. "The Mantle of Responsibility shelters all, provided they know their place, as you do." he said, gazing back at Sally. "Speak, child. Why are you brought before the Didact?"

Sally struggled to keep her voice even. "A man I loved claimed he saw you in his dreams."

Confusion flashed on the Warrior-Servant's face. "I know not your kind; I spake this."

"No." Sally said, blinking and regulating her breath. "He was not of my kind. He was Human."

A scowl appeared on the Didact's face; quick revulsion that he instantly controlled. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the ONI admirals whispering to one another with Andsworth's eyes flickering back and forth between them.

"In dreams?" the alien said before a flashing of realization came to his mind. His shoulders softened and the floating accents of his armor sunk with the posture. "That was so very long ago. It was another time."

The Didact backed away, suddenly lost in thought. On his back hung a cape inscribed with Forerunner runes along its border. The cape almost touched the metal floor as it fluttered behind the man.

"More the actions of my wife than that of I. I only granted a sample of my essence; gave what was required for her latest endeavor. The rest was the work of ancilae. That would mean my wife's plan came to pass, as they usually do. Those damned jewels proved useful after all."

Sally saw the flicker of an emotion flicker across the face of the Promethean; which she only had a split-second to register. Was that longing? Sadness? Where was his wife?

"It's how we found Requiem, my lord."

"Indeed. And where is this Human? Your... mate?"

"My husband!" Sally shouted. "I don't care if we were never married; he was my husband, goddammit!" she touched the ring on her finger subconsciously. "My husband."

Her emotion had no effect on the Forerunner though. In fact what little mutual respect that she had earned was now in danger. "Where is this Human?"

Sally took a shuddering breath. "Dead. Two years ago."

"There is no point to this!" the general said, beginning to turn away once more.

"He fell in combat, but your geas would have killed him anyway. He took his last strength from you."

He turned back, his orange eyes flaring in impatience. "If he could not bear the strength my essence bestowed upon him then his fate was of his own design." the Didact said. "I make no apologies for the diminished resistances of Humanity."

Sally asked, "You know what it's like to lose someone you love?"

The Didact froze, but then said, "Forerunners do not marry for love."

Then, in a cold voice, with no triumph, or malice, she said, "Then why do you take the time to remember your wife?"

The Didact simply looked at her, eyes set, a fierce look in them, but there was not one person in the room that could say for certain what the massive being was thinking with the exception of the Didact himself.

In the alcoves, one of the Spartans directly in the general's blind spot began to reach for his holster and slowly unclipped it. At the same time, John-117 immediately began to scan the room behind his glasses, looking for outcroppings? Choke points, areas of impact, and he reasoned that this room was specifically designed to allow for as little obstruction as possible.

The Didact took a step towards the small Mobian, and then took a step away.

"Why exactly is this one here, Humans? She seems to have a very loose grasp of how to address a leader."

"She is here," Andsworth said, for the first time, filling the space with his distinctive drawl, "because her world has had contact with the Prisoner as well in one form or another. Her Highness has had direct contact with the holder of the Librarian's geas, and she is greatly familiar with extrauniversal travel. I have known her parents almost ten years. They are noble people."

"Why did you insist here exactly?" the Didact asked, glancing around. "Why this frozen rock? Why not aboard the _Mantle's Approach?_ "

"Two reasons." Andsworth said. "The first of which is it's a small marvel we found not only a meeting place but corridors large enough to allow a Warrior-Servant free access. The second is that this location is close to the jumpgate, which if you require it, is there for your use."

"You neglected to inform me of this asset, Human."

"Admiral."

"Human." The Didact insisted.

Andsworth shrugged. "That is because in this stage of planning it was not important to do so. I understand you never ceased hostilities against Humanity?"

"Were it not for this incident I would be at the threshold of Erde-Tyrene itself." the Didact growled. "Something we will address after."

"But until that point," one of the ONI officers, the female whose name was Trenton, said, "We work together. If not as colleagues or allies, than people with a vested mutual interest."

"Agreed." Sally said, eyes travelling back to the Didact. "My lord?"

Silence for over a minute. Two minutes as the thoughts rolled around in the ancient general's head. He crossed his arms, and with a heavy sigh, he said, "We have a mutual interest. But I warn you, Humans! If there is even the is even the faintest of treachery, I will strip your pitiful homeworld to the dirt your kind crawled from.

"Glad to see we're all a big happy family." The other ONI admiral, McCabe said. "I assume that goes both ways?"

"No." The Didact said with a hint of a smile. "But you are welcome to try." He glanced around at the men standing in the alcoves.

"Then as of this point, this operation commences." Andsworth said. "As of this moment, everyone in this room, whether they agree with us or not, are bound to secrecy. All of our assets, all of our resources are going to be pooled together, and that includes those of our distinguished guest." he said, nodding to the Forerunner, who bared his teeth, but made no objection. Nobody, not even our leaders are to know about this unless deemed absolutely necessary. Sally, that includes your parents; do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Rouge?" Andsworth added.

"Locked down tight." she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"All future meetings will be held aboard the _Mantle's Approach_." the Didact said. "It is far more secure than this place."

"Not on the table." Redby said. "This is secure enough."

"I agree... 'not on the table'. The _Mantle's Approach_ will serve us fine as we coordinate. It is a vessel that has seen many more wars than this pitiful excuse of a fortress. You showed me trust by bringing me to your home system; allow me to return the same."

"You trust Humans on your ship?" Rouge asked.

He lowered his voice and said, "If I wanted you dead, I would have done so long before I arrived here."

The Admirals glanced at each other, as did Rouge and Sally.

"Alright." Andsworth said.

"Gerome..." Redby answered.

"Trust me on this one, Hugh."

The Didact smiled.

Redby said, "Alright. I'll make the arrangements. I'll vet support staff with the Didact's permission of course, and we'll start this little escapade of killing a god." and then he turned to leave. He nearly made it to the door before he froze. "Oh, Gerome?"

Andsworth locked his eyes on the Admiral.

"Don't fuck me over on this."

"Never crossed my mind." the Vice Admiral said, just as Redby crossed the doorway, closing it behind him, leaving the motley muti-species crew to contemplate just what they were getting into.


	16. Chapter 15: Approach

Chapter 15: Approach  
January 10, 3242, 1141 hours  
The _Fair Lady_  
The Warp  
EUS-1840

Ekdal rubbed his eyes stood on the bridge of the Rogue Trader's vessel. Departeu sat more like a cat in his chair than a commanding officer. In the days since they had been in the Warp, he had witnessed more of the man's alleged 'personality'. From any psychological standpoint, it was clear that the man was not all there in the head. He was vain, cruel, greedy, and possibly a little schizophrenic. The drugs that he regularly ingested certainly had not helped matters.

Not like much of his command staff had been any different. The ones that weren't wired into their machines had their own personality tics as well. For the most part, they seemed to be distant; disconnected, as if the troubles of Ekdal's men meant nothing to him.

Ekdal checked his watch, trying to get a sense of what was going on.

"I'm afraid that will do no good." Departeu said, the translated voice singing in his ear. "The time flow of the Immaterium is completely different than that of the normal world. We could have been gone _centuries_ by now."

The implications of that statement made Ekdal feel uneasy and almost made him drop his mug of coffee.

No. Not coffee. Recaf. Tasted horrible, but that was probably the point - shocking the brain into a waking state.

"That doesn't bother you at all?" Ekdal asked.

Departeu turned in his seat, his expression somewhat flippant despite everything. "Why should it? That's what makes the Warp so interesting. Come here, Captain."

Ekdal took a risk walking down the half-flight of stairs to where the Rogue Trader was, an ever-present glass of wine in his hand, and a grey-skinned servitor holding a bottle in a bucket of crushed ice. Gregers did not make eye contact with the cyborg, even though the thing's eyes were obstructed by what looked like a band of metal with slits in it.

"It's far too late in the day for recaf. Perhaps I can tempt you with a glass of Charyldian IX 225?"

"No, I don't drink when I'm on a mission. It impairs judgment."

"Judgment!" You make me laugh sometimes, my dear Captain!" Departeu took a sip, hummed in appreciation, and pointed a jeweled finger towards the bottle. "Five hundred gelt for a bottle like this. Your average agri-worlder will never drink the stuff they spend two years making."

"Is that a hefty sum?" Ekdal asked honestly.

"For a Rogue Trader?" Departeu said looking surprised as well as a little insulted. "My dear Captain, watch this."

The man grabbed the neck of the icy bottle, and glanced at the label in pure satisfaction. Then without warning, he swung it over the head of the servitor, smashing it into shards, many of which embedded itself into the cyborg's skin. It groaned, though stayed perfectly still; a dark red rivulet pooling and then dripping over the curve of its visor.

"Bring me another, please." he said to the servitor, and it trudged away, dripping wine and blood onto the deck of the bridge.

"Good lad!" Departeu grinned.

Ekdal simply stared.

"That was a bit more amusing than I expected this time around. I never liked that one; perhaps I'll have him replaced. That bottle? Worth far more than the servitor. Both of these things I have in abundance; the wine is more precious to me since the planet was deemed a point of Tzeentchian worship and was sadly destroyed by the Inquisition. Sad. They had such good soil there. I frequently carry enough means to purchase whole organizations in my pocket. Look upon this, my dear Captain."

Departeu fished around in his pocket and produced gem the size of a golf ball. It had hundreds of facets, and an interlaced design within the jewel was beautiful to behold, almost like a nebula.

"Yes indeed it is much like a nebula, Captain. This is the Eye of Istad, a unique thing found deep in the mines of Taugrus III, way out in the Koronus Expanse. This jewel was mined three thousand years ago when the blood of the Heresy wasn't even dry yet. It was said to be so beautiful that the light seen in facets were like newborn stars in the cloud of a nebula. So unique. So precious to those that found it."

Departeu studied the jewel, wound up, and pitched it straight into the back of his helmsman's head.

"And now it's over there!"

The man whipped around to see who had thrown the stone at him, but when his eyes met Departeu, his mouth dropped ever so slightly.

"Yes I did it." the Rogue Trader said. "And what, pray tell, are you going to do about it? Perhaps if your fat head didn't make such a tempting target I would have hit someone else!"

The helmsman slowly turned back to his station, looking terrified as he did so.

"You know, my Lord..."

"Yes I do know." Departeu said. "But what were you saying, my dear captain?"

"A crew that respects their captain will be far more loyal to him."

Departeu's eyes slowly linked with Ekdal's.

"Are you implying, my dear, dear Captain, that I am not worthy of respect?"

Now the entire bridge crew turned around.

"Well, out with it, man." Departeu said, tapping the pistol on his thigh. "I adore outside opinions."

Ekdal didn't say anything. "You have money, power, and evidently influence. What's not to be respected about that?"

Departeu nodded, took a sip of wine and said, "You have a glib tongue, sir. I respect that. You do speak truth though. I do have money and power. Influence... that is something we are continuing to acquire, among profit. To a Rogue Trader, there is no such thing as too much influence, and anybody can seize that opportunity to rise to such influence. For instance, have you ever heard of House Haarlock?"

"No."

"Well of course you haven't. I'm being presumptuous. Perhaps another glass of wine will fix that. Where is that lad? Oh well, House Haarlock, now that is a respectable bunch. They aren't Rogue Traders yet, but they are no doubt slowly arriving at that critical mass. Up and coming, especially among the high class they currently rub shoulders with. Supposedly came from nothing, relatively speaking. Legend has it that they were an influential family back before Old Night, but information is so unreliable these days. Now, young Bastion Haarlock, if he plays his cards right or perhaps steals a few from the competition, may indeed work his way up in the world of our circles; a newly minted Rogue Trader and the sire of a respectable family. Perhaps achieve governorship, or place a few governors in his pocket, may curry favor with the Administratum..." he waved his hands, "On and on and on, etcetera, etcetera. Fact of the matter is, there is always something to look forward to when you sit in these plush Veregnian tiger-skin chairs." he rubbed the hand-rest seductively. "Oh, that was a thrilling hunt wasn't that, my pet?"

"Why not go to the level of the Administratum?" Ekdal asked. "Be one of the policy makers?"

Departeu almost spat out his wine. "By the throne, why would he ever want to trade down?"

Ekdal's mouth form a thin half smile. "Good point. Well, what about you then? What do you want?"

Departeu, in the process of wiping his lips with a finely embroidered cloth, seemed to gaze off into space. He lowered the cloth and tapped his chin. "What do I want? Aside from profit?"

"What's the long term goal for you?"

"Creating a dynasty." he said with finality. "We're only securing the funds first. Family life is such a drain on one's finances."

"Uh-huh." Ekdal said, taking another drink of recaf and grimacing sharply. "I'm sure you'll be strapped for cash."

"What does that mean? Strapped for cash?" He asked, the idiom in English, not translated into Gothic.

Ekdal realized he had a free insult handed to him. "Blessed with wealth." he explained.

"Oh naturally." Ekdal said. "Honestly though, I've seen my fair share of wenches and whores over the years; it comes with the trade of course. Actually my Seneschal is quite the animal himself. Probably has more bastards out there than I do."

Ekdal's eyebrows bobbed. "Well, what happens when one of them want to take over. Claim they're Son Number One?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hypothetically that bunch of bastards will come calling eventually for that inheritance money. Army of bastards. Literally." he chuckled.

Now Departeu was flummoxed. This was clearly something he hadn't thought of. "I don't rightly know. Bastard Royale? Last bastard standing takes the gold? King of the Bastards? Damn you for making me think of this!"

"You know what?" Ekdal said. "I think you're the first person I've ever met who would settle an inheritance dispute through mass deathmatch."

"You seriously think I wouldn't?" Departeu asked, eyebrows raised, but expression neutral. Something caught his eye.

The hulking servitor had returned at the far end of the bridge, bucket of ice in hand with a new bottle ready to be opened. Ekdal could see clearly that the drone still had the glass shards embedded in it, though it seemed to have stopped bleeding.

"Ah, there you are, lad!" the Rogue Trader said. "Come on then, let's be having that!" 

* * *

Several dozen decks below and behind the bridge, Sergeant Major Avery Johnson stood around a tactical readout of the planet they were heading to. Clamped in his mouth was a brightly burning cigar. He bore it with pride and lack of care. Back on a UNSC ship, he wouldn't have been able to get away with doing such a thing, but here, he was free. Lack of regulation, lack of care, hell, there was someone wafting up any given hallway at any given time. The ship was run like a Catholic church. Someone was always on their knees praying, tossing incense around like it was on sale, and someone, somewhere was getting whipped for incompetence.

Perhaps not so much like a Catholic church.

Avery had access to some of the ship but he was always under guard. Green-armored soldiers accompanied him virtually everywhere he went. He saw the cluttered corridors, the floating skulls, and even saw slaves hauling gigantic bullets into cannons with chains and ropes. Chains and ropes.

The whole thing gave him the willies. The sooner he got his feet back on solid ground, the better.

Not all of them had Interpreters here. He did, and a few of the other senior NCOs did. They served as translators for the rest of their units, summarizing and making the information far more bite-sized for the other Marines. Up above them, a techpriest stood next to a holographic projector, calling forth the images of the world that they would be arriving at. Avery struggled to listen to the tinny voice past the translated Midwestern English that the device rendered the speech as. The voice that came from the hooded figure was a collection of whines, static blasts, and frequently accented versions of the _lingua franca_ here he that he had been told was called Low Gothic.

He couldn't find a single bit of linguistic catch to it. It was all Greek to him if the Greeks had been listening to the ancient Chinese and tried to make sense of that too before him.

Next to him was the Master-at-Arms he had seen earlier - the ursine. Wilcox. She was a big lady, standing at six feet even and nearly every single pound on her was muscle, barely contained under her auburn fur and matching hair. For Mobians, she was a scary woman - deadly frightening, but like all of those guys, there was something you could connect to. It was the eyes. Human eyes, not animal eyes.

It was something he had seen very much in the war.

But then he reminded himself that those were not his memories, and that sobered him up quickly.

"This making any sense to you?" He asked Wilcox.

"Not really." she admitted in her gruff but surprisingly feminine tone. "Half of it's just 'thank you machine god', 'we are not worthy, machine god', and 'the Omnissiah repairs all'.

"Silence." someone ahead of them whispered.

Johnson kept his voice low. "Are you sure you want to tag along?"

"I'm qualified to fight on solid land."

"Are you used to fighting in wide-open spaces?"

"Are you?" she fired back.

"Damn right I am."

"Maybe I'll surprise you." she replied.

The techpriest continued. "For it is by the grace and vision of the Machine God that we have obtained record of this world in which the Astartes call for aid. It is the world Ignacis IV, long forsaken by the light of Terra. It is but a simple world, wreathed in frost, wind, and glaciers. Its mighty mountain ranges cover much of the surface."

Avery saw one of the NCOs addressing the lower enlisted Marines. "Planet's called Ignacius IV. He says it's cold as shit."

The Marines laughed in low tones.

"Our most glorious Astropath has determined the location of the Astartes' call. Our Auger array will further determine the presence of the holy warriors of the Emperor. His hand will guide us as his sons cry for salvation. We shall give it through His power."

"In the Emperor's name." the Guardsmen chanted.

The globe of the planet further ballooned in size, filling the small chapel nearly to its golden frescoed ceiling. Miles Prower first looked at the sphere itself, impressed at the resolution of the projection, then was lost in the intricate paintings of angels wreathed in technological haloes, and how they were flanked by skulls and heavily augmented infants. It was morbid, yet Miles couldn't look away. His thumb stroked his growing stubble as he could feel the very emotion in the room. The astropath was right - this could take a lot of time to get used to. It was kind of like being back in EUS-39, when he got a taste of the Jedi.

The Jedi had no idea what was waiting for them here though. The sheer strength of emotions would be enough to disorient many. He was barely keeping it together. He wondered how Jolee, who stood right next to him, felt. Though he was a tough old bastard, he suspected he was keeping it in as well. Though, Bindo had been a Jedi way longer than Miles had. He probably had ways of shielding his mind. However, the same rules probably wouldn't apply here. There was no Force, only the Warp, and the Warp made its own rules as it went.

"Coordinates are as follows." another voice said, the commanding officer of the Guardsmen - a captain with jet black hair named Dekster. "The 2040th is to make landfall at the steppes indicated here."

A bright spot glowed on the surface of the hologram. Miles' ear twitched as he heard the NCO translate for his unit.

"The surrounding terrain is fairly fragile, and we're not going to get much of our heavy units in there. You'll likely get Chimeras to move down there; not much else. That snow is maybe a few feet deep in places. All means available are to be used to retrieve the Emperor's angels. You were born to save your lords. Give your lives for His sons if need be."

The noncom faltered. "Uh... he says that there's a good chance you could all die..."

Now a new emotion seemed to gather. Nervousness filled the space around the Mobian.

"Shouldn't have translated that." Jolee grumbled. "Some things are better left unspoken, dammit."

"Pretty heavy stuff." Prower whispered to the Jedi. "Give your lives to save them? These guys must be pretty important."

"Anything to do with this Emperor seems to be important." Bindo replied.

A new voice appeared to Miles right. "Is this briefing boring you?"

The fox quickly glanced over to see a tall stooped man glaring down at him. The man's face was lined not with age, but with the constant expression of absolute hatred and rage that had built up over the years. The man's blocky jaw was flanked by tall collars that almost seemed like horse blinders. On his head was a peaked cap with a skull placed dead center on it. On his right eye he wore a monocle, lined with gold, but it didn't move like a regular monocle. It zoomed in on his face. One eye was freakishly large because of it, and the other, small and beady. Both were blackened in color and between them was a large, hooked nose that appeared to have been broken in the past at least twice. Beneath the beak was a crooked mouth twisted into an evil-looking smile.

Miles felt a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he could not explain. Something about this man activated a primal fear at the base of his skull. Perhaps it was the man's elaborate uniform offset by the barely contained hostility. Maybe it was the gigantic pistol not so convincingly hidden behind the man's back.

"We were discussing the objective."

"Oh, are we now acting so casually?"

Miles saw it was a lose-lose and asked, "I am not familiar with your rank, sir. Are you an officer with this unit?"

The man made a movement that could have been a jerking of the hands. It could have been the gun coming forward, but the man made a visible effort to control himself, the eyepiece zooming rapidly.

"Your insolence has been... forgiven... for now. I expect nothing better from a beastman."

Now it was Miles' turn to hold his tongue.

"The Lord Rogue Trader has... quite specifically instructed us to show you courtesy. His generosity is to be commended." the man said through clearly gritted teeth. "I am Commissar Helstrom. I am the one who decides whether your miserable life is forfeit or not."

Miles' jaw suddenly dropped. He remembered his first moments aboard the Fair Lady. He remembered being gathered in the cathedral, and he heard the sudden ringing gunshot, and then he remembered seeing the body mutilated by the high caliber shot. He remembered seeing this man in the ranks.

"Oh, so you do remember me." Helstrom said. "Then you remember the power I have. I keep these men in line. I will keep you in line."

"We're not part of your military though. We operate-"

The hand came from nowhere and struck Miles dead center on the cheek, knuckles moving with such force it may as well have been a bullet. The force of the blow spun him around, and he lost his balance, landing on the floor, dazed, confused, and suddenly bleeding from a split lip.

"What the fuck!" Someone cried, and the Marines were on their feet, charging forward at once, voices raised and fingers pointing at the downed lieutenant. Two men rushed forward to pick him up, but Helstrom raised his other hand, pistol pointing between one man and the other.

"Back up!" he growled. However, his words were lost on the pair of E-3s that obviously could not understand him. "Move or die!"

"Back the fuck off, you morons!" The E-5 with the Interpreter called out.

The lance corporals, with hands raised, slowly stepped backwards, all the while the gun switching between the two.

Johnson was instantly thinking of what to do next. He thought and thought but quickly realized that any action he or any of his men took would result in their deaths. They were walking the razor's edge and the best course of action was simply to shut up and take it. It was not a decision he made lightly at all, but he had no choice. None of them did. He jogged over to where Miles lay on the deck and helped him up.

"You will obey orders given to you without question." The Commissar said. "This is my ship, child."

He knew he shouldn't speak. He didn't need to, but he said, "I'm sure the captain would disagree."

Helstrom's face went blank for only a second, but then his jaw tightened and a small vein appeared on the side of his head. He raised the gun and pointed it at the officer's head.

Miles didn't even look up, but instead spat some blood on the deck.

"May Chaos take you, Warpspawn!"

The bolt pistol went off, the report sounding like an explosion in the relatively small room. The bolt however did not go through Miles' head, but instead slammed into the deck perhaps a foot to the side, puncturing the deck plating and detonating somewhere underneath.

Miles' ears were ringing - the world was a wash of white noise. He knew he wasn't dead. His hand flew to his face to check for wounds that weren't there. When his eyes angled up to Helstrom, the man who he was sure had him dead to rights. Instead of one man, there was two - one of them with a wide brimmed hat that held a ridiculous feather; his hand clamped on the Commissar's shooting arm. It had been jerked to the side and now the man with the peaked cap looked worried. Prower couldn't understand what they were saying at first.

"My dear, dear, dear, Commissar." Departeu said, giving the shooting arm another few healthy shakes. "Please explain to me what you were about to do?"

Miles' ears had returned to normal. How long had the captain been standing there?

"This filth spoke back to a representative of the Officio Prefectus and the Astra Millitarum. By all rights his punishment was to be death, sir."

"Yes, I am aware of that. However, this is one of my special friends. My special, special friends." Departeu gave another few shakes at each mention of the word 'special'. "And because I like my special things, I would be quite put out if you were to break them."

The wolfish smile that appeared on the Rogue Trader's face said he would actually be more than just a little put out. That and the fact that he had brought out his own bolt pistol and jammed it into Helstrom's ear.

"Now why don't you be a darling and put that weapon down."

Miles risked a glance and saw that there was not one of the green-clad guardsmen that raised their own weapon to defend their commissar. They weren't frightened, not apathetic... but it seemed, expectant. A weird thought entered Miles' brain, which caused his face to twitch ever so slightly. Were these men expecting their commander to get his head blown off?

"He's quite right, you know." Departeu said, now backing away, but keeping the pistol level with the Commissar's head. "This is my ship. This is my ship and you are my guest, here at my request too if memory serves me; a favor from the Officio!"

Helstrom's eyes narrowed, and then slowly closed as he considered the direness of his situation. It seemed to take nearly all of his effort, but he loosened his muscles, and the arm holding the weapon fell. Miles watched, blood dripping from his lip, that with even more concentration, the finger, locked firmly within the trigger guard, slowly extracted itself, and was placed on the grip.

"Well then lads," Departeu said, addressing the UNSC servicemen. "Best get geared up. We're due to translate in hours, not days as we had originally expected. He shifted his address to the crowd of Cadians. "As for the rest of you, we're preparing for the Guard to descend on the planet as soon as we confirm that we have exited the Warp cleanly. Officers, get your men ready to go."

The man standing on the stage made the sign over his chest with the crossed hands, thumbs pointed opposite from each other and marshaled the regular soldiers out. Soon it was only the adept on stage with the still-rotating projection of the planet they were bound to drop upon. Departeu looked at the Marines and navy personnel, curiously standing around and pacing; making small talk to one another. He approached Johnson who he stood with authority in front of the group.

"You are the commanding officer of these men?" Departeu asked.

Johnson, hearing the translated question, said, "Sergeant Major. I'm one of the senior NCOs in the group. Provisional Executive Officer of SOG OMEGA."

Departeu asked, "And what would that be? Special Forces?"

"Something like that. Advanced reconnaissance, behind enemy lines action, shock troop duty; anything to assist our commanders."

Miles' ear twitched. Something seemed off in the way Departeu asked that question.

"Would you say you're sent ahead of main assault forces?"

"We really don't do front-line battles." Johnson said, rolling his cigar around in his mouth as he did so. "We're off doing more sensitive things."

Departeu's face suddenly split in a smile. He even clapped his hands together and just started to laugh deep in his throat. "Wonderful. Simply wonderful! Have I got just the task for you then."

Johnson's cigar dipped slightly, taken by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Walk with me, Sergeant Major." the Rogue Trader said. "I'm going to be a bit frank. We're going to be under heavy attack as soon as the Cadians touch that powder. Greenskins of the worst sort are going to be engaging them."

Johnson didn't ask what a 'Greenskin' was, choosing to wisely let the heavily armed man continue his exposition.

"My friend; your combat prowess may in fact prove invaluable to me. So, can I ask you a simple favor?"

Johnson nearly dropped the cigar in shock as Departeu threw his arm over the Marine's shoulder and bunched him close so that they were only a few inches apart from each other. Departeu's delightfully jovial face was quite disturbing. "I need you to help recover the Astartes for me. Your men here will have the honor of helping me extract the Emperor's avenging angels. What do you say to that?"

Johnson milled this over. "We'll have to confer with Captain Ekdal or Commander De Soto.

"Ah, damn the middle man to the Eye of Terror and back. I'll make things more... what's the word..." he thought, zoning out and snapping his fingers repeatedly, "...streamlined."

Johnson wondered at the man, who was so powerful that he considered a ship's master to be a middle man. He speculated he would not be given much choice in this matter, having witnessed what just transpired mere minutes before.

"I suppose we could work something out." He said in more of a grumble than an actual agreement.

"Grand." Departeu chuckled. "Simply grand, eh?"

The Rogue Trader counted off the men who were standing around and selected ten, most seemingly at random, though he made sure that Johnson, Bindo, Miles, and Reyes were among them. Reyes was selected as well as the ursine, Wilcox.

"Just go along with it, chief." Johnson said to her.

"And circumvent naval protocol?" She asked, barely hiding a snarl at the corners of her mouth. "This frickin' _peacock_ should be going through Ekdal."

"But he isn't." Avery pressed. "And as far as anyone is concerned around here, he's the boss now."

She looked at him, was about to respond. All the while, Johnson made eye contact with her, gently puffing on the cigar.

"Weren't you just on the bridge a moment before?" Jolee asked at once, noticing a rather odd sense of timing.

"Sorry?" Departeu asked, now swiveling towards the Grey Jedi.

"How did you get down here so fast?"

The Rogue Trader looked shocked at the directness of the question, checked himself, and seemed to look foolish. "I keep on forgetting you rubes aren't from around here. How pedestrian of me. Good throne. Teleportarium, man. Rogue Trader's perogative. I can be anywhere at any time.

"Reassuring." Jolee said.

"Anyhow, come with me. Back over to the globe. Here's your mission."

Departeu indicated the hologram of Ignacius IV, the grid of the overlay pulsing green, giving the room a somewhat sickly glow. Three peanut-like moons were rotating around the general sphere of the planet.

Departeu's tone was serious - something that the group was not ready for. "The Guardsmen's battle is going to be a distraction for our real objective. The Astartes have been pinned down to roughly this location if the Astropath's messages are to be believed."

Miles shook his head. "You can tell that from a picture?"

"Do something enough times and you get good at it, Master Prower." the Rogue Trader smiled.

"So your men get slaughtered while we do your dirty work?" Johnson asked. "Not a good way to manage your forces."

"On the contrary, Sergeant Major. When the Emperor's Angels are in the balance, it's entirely a useful management of forces."

"I don't understand." the noncom said, taking a confused and sad puff on his cigar.

"Spend enough time here and I assure you you'll understand in great abundance. Your drop zone will be fairly close to that of the 2040th, though your vector will take you closer to this plateau here." He pointed at a geological feature only scant kilometers from where the dotted line showing where the Cadians' landing area was.

"That's where the Astartes are?" Bindo asked.

"We believe. When we exit Warp, we can home in on a coded vox signal." Departeu nodded. "Provided that they can keep their foe from discovering their positions. If they're smart, they'll abandon their crash site."

"And if they aren't?" Wilcox asked.

Departeu set his jaw. "What is your name?"

"Master Chief Petty Officer Wilcox." the Mobian said, arms crossed and legs slightly apart, spine straight and head slightly inclined. "Master-at-Arms of the _Bastogne_."

"Normally I'd have you disciplined for making such a remark against the Astartes." Departeu said, voice calm, but full of menace. "But they _are_ Space Wolves, so that is a valid question."

Wilcox tried to work her mouth as the Rogue Trader addressed Johnson once more.

"I do not think they would stay by their craft. They'll move. How far I do not know. I suspect that we will understand more as soon as we transition back to normalcy. In the meantime, I would have you outfitted for your mission."

"We have weapons."

"Yes, and how cute they are." Departeu smiled. "You are not going to be fighting hive gangers or melancholy agri-worlders, my friends. These are none other than Greenskins. Orks."

"Did that translate right?" Miles asked. "Did you all hear the same thing I did?"

"Small caliber projectiles will be worthless against them. They have skin as hard as rocks and a nervous system impervious to most forms of physical trauma. Damned things are almost too stupid to die. We have less subtle ways of dealing with stubborn xenos like that." Departeu said, bobbing his eyebrows. "Now let's get you some real weapons so you can fight real enemies. If you're heading into a cesspool of grox shite, I'll do everything in my power to get you out, be it sopping and stinking, or covered ten times over with blood and guts so we can start making some real gelt and fight something challenging. Welcome to the Imperium of Man. Charming, is it not?"


	17. Chapter 16: The Blessed Bolt

Chapter 16: The Blessed Bolt  
January 10, 3242, 1457 hours  
The Fair Lady, Armory  
The Warp  
EUS-1840

The journey down to the armory was not as glamorous as the one leading to the bridge. Departeu's selected individuals were escorted by a duo of Armsmen, shipboard security armed with shotguns and facial expressions that could cause as much damage. One man was placed in front of the group and a second behind, slowly driving the UNSC personnel forward as they made their way through the twisting and turning side corridors of the _Fair Lady_. The main hallways were lavish, wide, and adorned with frescoes and carvings. Here in the lower decks no such beauty existed. Pipes hang low from the ceiling, bursts of relieved steam frequently issued from pipes, and servitors commonly waddled past the group, frequently frightening some of the Marines who were still quite uncomfortable with the grey-skinned cyborgs. The constructs however paid them no attention, attending to whatever task had been given to it.

Likewise, servo-skulls were common; some of them had speakers fastened to just under the teeth. Judging from the translations, the skull was broadcasting prayers and thoughts of the day for the ratings to hear and pay heed to. Every now and again, cogitator monitors would indicate status updates and daily schedules for the deck, complete with the hundreds upon hundreds of ratings that called these cramped corridors home.

Miles noted that there were an incredible amount of said deckhands in these corridors. He didn't know that the vessel could hold this many if this was only one of the decks. He understood why there were Armsmen with them now as they could easily brush against the passing Humans as they went to and from their duty stations. Judging from the red eyes and twitchy behavior, Tails guessed that it wouldn't take much to start a fight, and wouldn't take much more for someone to lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.

He regarded the passing throng. It mostly consisted of men, though he recognized a few women in there. Here he was taken by surprise. He noted that in the mix there were indeed Humans, though they weren't quite the same. Some were tall and lanky things, with thin builds and bony looking limbs, pasty white groups with jet black hair and eyes to match, and more than once he saw Humans only half the size of the others around them. He was a fuzzy thing, with mutton chops reaching nearly to his chin, and arms that appeared made out of hair. Curiously, he noted that the Human wore no shoes, massive feet, as with the arms, swathed in curly brown threads. He didn't stare for too long as the short Human started to turn towards him. However, he strayed from group just a bit, and his arm made contact with another Human-like man who was taller than the hairy thing but was shorter than he was.

"Watch yer arse before I kick it off!" the fat bearded man said, the voice rendered as a thick Scottish accent in his ear. "Did ye nae hear me? Bloody hell ye have more hair than me wife!"

Jolee came over a yanked Miles back into the formation. The Mobian seemed to have a slackened tongue because he started to say, "You look just like a dw-" before he was forced back into the huddle of Humans and Mobians, the rotund man regarding the fox with confusion and anger before continuing his walk.

"The hell are you doing?" Jolee asked, glancing at the Armsmen to see if they had reacted. "Now you're talking to them?"

"Sorry." Tails said. "It just came out."

"Were you about to call him a dwarf?"

"No!"

"Well it sounded like it!" Jolee growled, with a ghost of a laugh in the back of his throat.

"He looks like one though!" Tails said. "He even had the braided beard! How do you even know about dwarves anyway?"

"I read the Hobbit. Now can you shut up before someone shoots us?"

"Those are Squats." the rear Armsman said suddenly. "We don't talk about them much."

"Why?" Tails asked.

"Because we don't."

Well, fair enough, Miles thought shrugging.

* * *

The closer they got to the armory, the thicker the stench of cordite, wax, and sweat became. They had entered several sections of the craft lined with brick and stonework that seemed to contrast other areas that were all metal and grids. Every now and again, they would pass a computer station where a servitor was working on a report, slowly speaking into a microphone. It was shocking to see some of these things speaking as nearly all on the bridge were silent.

Miles wondered to himself how sentient these things were. He had heard the justifications about artificial intelligence, but the alternative seemed quite horrifying. He wondered what a Mobian would look like and was quickly brought to mind the site of a roboticized man, metal from ears to tail.

It was a traumatic experience as he was only a child when things like these were common. He thought again, and found the closest thing to one of these things was Bunnie, and she was lively as a summer day. These things, in these corridors, seemed like a world sucked of all its life.

On the walls were printed reports and reminders. Printed text was one of the things that the Interpreters could not translate as they only worked on sound. If Miles had a VISR or an eyepiece attachment then he could understand it. A few of the letters seemed vaguely Roman; he spotted the letter A, E, and T, though there seemed to be mixes from nearly all languages on Earth, especially Chinese and Russian, though nearly forty thousand years of isolation had warped them from their original forms.

The High Gothic though did use Roman lettering, though in ways that made no sense to his Fourth Millennium eyes. The syntax was off, the grammar was strange, and if he pronounced it, he believed that there was a certain inflection he needed to have. These were clearly more 'holy' than the Low Gothic as these messages were covered with wax seals with draping parchment. Some of these letters were nearly covered with seals; a few scant letters were visible between the gaps in the red wax. Every so often a draping of binary could be seen, the mechanical and organic skull logo of the Adeptus Mechanicus heading it all. Creepy guys.

Three more turns in the corridors brought them to the door to the armory. Black and yellow hazard lines rounded the perimeter of the door. Various warning signs lined the hallway leading to the portal. The Armsman at the front entered a code on the door and it slowly slid open, gears visibly turning as the slab of marked and faded metal retracted into the floor and ceiling. It seemed to only raise anticipation in the group, like a castle portcullis retracting.

They were greeted by a room, perhaps several hundred feet in length, lined on every surface, barring the ceiling, with weapons of various makes, models and states of integrity. The scent of gunpowder was much stronger here to the point where the Mobians found it quite incredible. To their noses, these smells were overpowering. To the Humans however, these were fairly strong aromas and nothing more. There were other scents in here as well - lubricants, cleaners, and more incense, though this one smelling closer to jade and was thus not as offensive.

The Marines gazed at the weapons, many of them painted green. It was surmised that this was where the Cadians stored their firearms. Miles got close to one of the racks and looked it over. The weapon that caught his eye first appeared to be a rifle of some sort. It was long, boxy, and painted in a bright shade of green. Adorning the front of its barrel shroud was a golden skull, wings streaked back towards the trigger. It appeared to be in immaculate condition, though he could easily detect a sense that this rifle was ancient, as if it had served in a thousand wars. Knowing all that he had seen thus far, it probably had.

A voice barked into his ear. He straightened at once, muscles locking up and eyes forward. He half expected Helstrom to walk around the corner, thinking that he had shirked his duty in joining the Cadians and instead came back to harass Miles instead. The man who came around the corner though was not Helstrom, but a tall and well-muscled man that wore a tightly fit garment similar to a T-shirt, though had lacing that brought to mind an older style of clothes from the history books.

His dark olive skin was studded with cybernetics, the most notable being his entire left leg from the knee. It had been replaced by a complicated looking cybernetic limb that had pumps and pistons on it to simulate movement, but all it appeared to be in Miles' eyes was a fancy peg leg. He averted his eyes from the limb and instead made eye-contact. It was literal eye-contact as the man only had one eye technically speaking. A bright blue disk was accompanied by a large and invasive-looking skull plate. Within the plate was an orbital depression like in an organic skull, but instead of an eye, a bright red dot winked from the shadow beneath the brow. It made Miles quite nervous to look at him for longer than necessary.

"Don't touch!" He barked at Tails, who flinched at the sudden outburst.

Johnson reached out and grabbed the Mobian by the shoulder, yanking him back into formation.

The man gazed at Miles, and then to the weapons rack, pulling out the rifle and glancing at it. His breathing quickened as he looked the gun from stock to barrel. He removed a lug from the stock and removed it, glancing at it as well before reassembling the gun. He grabbed a case of something on his belt and gently used a brush to dab at the weapon, all the while humming something to himself.

"What's he doing?" Johnson asked Tails, who was surprised that question wasn't flipped around.

The fox gently breathed and let his mind feel around. He felt the man's rather lightly guarded conscience and felt emotion stream off him like steam from a hot stove. There was a wall of anger, mostly directed at Prower himself, though beneath it, he could sense the air of reverence for what he was doing, and the care that he took in his ritual. "I think he's praying." he gently concluded.

That didn't surprise either of them at this point. Prayer was ubiquitous in every activity aboard this ship. He had learned about this from an off-duty Cadian he had been able to speak to. The Guardsman in question had told Miles that weapons had something called a 'machine spirit', something that the Mobian assumed was a computer algorithm or personality of some kind. If that was true though, then every single firearm on the ship had some sort of AI associated with it, which would make the whole argument against artificial intelligence bunk. Part of him believed that this was the case and the Imperium, or at least the Cadians, were arguing semantics.

The man reverently placed the rifle on the table in the middle of their section of the room. In the far back, servitors slid back and forth on rails, gently grabbing weapons with long spidery fingers and visually inspecting them before moving them to and from other areas of storage. Miles struggled to avert his eyes from their faces, grotesquely combined with mechanical appendages, like unhinged artificial jaws that opened far too wide for his liking. He unwittingly attempted to survey the thoughts of the flesh drones, but fell into horror as he discovered that there was not a single emotion in their minds; that it was only his imagination that he saw something approaching glee in its features as it continued its work. He felt faint.

Johnson on the other hand ignored them and walked straight towards the man who was still wiping the rifle down.

"Sergeant Major Johnson, UNSC Marine Corps." he said, nodding in greeting. "We're here to get outfitted?"

The man's mechanical eye blinked in conjunction with the one he was born with. They looked Johnson over, and without warning, the mechanical eye scanned the sergeant major. Johnson jumped back, startled by the gesture. The other Marines came forward with Wilcox leading them, placing an arm over Johnson and the other forming a loose fist, teeth bared.

The man smiled, several golden teeth flashed in the artificial light, and then he laughed hard. It was one full of mirth and amusement. He shook his head, slammed one hand on the table and said, "There's many days I'd never thought I'd live to see. A beastman stands up for a Human!"

"I'm full of surprises." Wilcox growled. "What are you doing?"

"Scanning for weapons you may have smuggled in. You can relax now." he added in a falsely soothing tone.

Miles realized that this man also had an interpreter. How was that even possible? Did the techpriests that raided the three ships take every single one of them? Did they even have that many translators aboard their ships?

Wilcox however didn't seem to relax. She was being talked down to.

"Maybe if you put those teeth away I wouldn't feel like I have to use this, beastwoman." he said, placing his hand close to the trigger of the weapon.

"Wilcox, stand down." Avery said in a low but stern voice.

"I rate the same as you, Johnson." she replied. "You don't get to order me around."

"So I'll ask very nicely then. Let the nice man give us those guns."

She realized her temper was getting the better of her and she backed off. "Goddamn racist."

"I shall refrain from being 'racist' when xenos like the Greenskins stop butchering us by the billions and the Dark Eldar free our people from whatever they call slavery. Perhaps the creatures of Chaos will finally deign to leave us alone." the man said. "Now, if we are done, I am to issue you your arms for this assignment. The Lord Captain values you highly. I am to present you with only the finest of personal armaments."

"I'm down with fine." Reyes said.

The man called over a Servitor that held a sealed container. It appeared old and worn. On its top was the seal of the Imperium of Man, the double-headed eagle staring into the past as well as the future. It held a code lock on it which the pan reached down and punched in a code of at least ten digits, yet his fingers moved so quickly it was hard to determine exactly. The container hissed and slid open, revealing even larger versions of Departeu's bolt pistol.

The guns left everyone in awe looking at them. They were gorgeous, containing brushed steel exteriors with carvings on them that indicated that perhaps they were once held by the hands of nobility. Walnut grips of the trigger and handguard were faded but still gorgeous. The body of the bolt gun itself was long and narrow, though the bore of the weapon was still massive in comparison to the frame. How this thing could hold itself together while firing was something that nobody was quick to explain.

There were dozens of the bolt guns inside the case, each fitted into a foam-like protective lining with magazines lined beside them. Each was fitted with a folding stock which locked on the side facing away from the viewers.

"What are those?"

"Torres-Pattern Boltgun. Bolters. It wasn't easy getting a hold of these ones. Fifty caliber dual stage cartridge, ten round magazine in the box."

The weapons master reached into another box and pulled out one of the said cartridges. Miles saw one of the full rounds outside of a magazine for the first time. He had half a mind to reach for it, but once again, his quick sensing of the man's thoughts told him it wasn't a good idea.

"I've seen your own stubbers. Decent. Not bad if you want to mow down hive gangers or PDF rebellion. Hell, you could maybe take down a few traitor Guardsmen with those. What do those rifles take?"

".308 caliber." Johnson answered. "Sometimes bigger if you want a battle rifle. .450 for those."

"This is a seventy-five caliber shot. Now, unlike your projectiles, you may find that these pack a bit more punch." he set the shot down on the table. The UNSC forces leaned in to look at the round, some of them baffled at the size. It wasn't a hell of a lot bigger than a fifty-seven caliber cartridge regularly seen in sniper rifles, but the way that it looked commanded respect. It was an ornate thing as well, with Gothic script covering parts of the casing, an Aquila stamped on the body, and serial numbers on both the bullet and the case itself, both of them exact matches. The tip of the bullet gleamed.

"Two staged round." the weapons master explained.

"What does that mean?" Tails asked.

The man smiled. "This isn't a regular old stubber round. This is a rocket. Pull the trigger, and the kicker knocks the round out of the barrel. Once clear, solid rocket fuel ignites and blows the round downrange. Diamantine tip to get it through even the toughest armor. Once this little bugger burrows into something, then bang!"

Miles remembered now how he heard what sounded like a small explosion when Helstrom's round had sailed by his ear and punctured the deck plating.

"It explodes?" Reyes asked.

"Violently I might add." the weapons master nodded. "Well, it's an excuse to bring these old bastards out of vacuum storage."

"How old are they?" Wilcox asked.

"At least a good thousand years old."

Miles drew his hand back in sudden reverence and confusion. "A thousand years old? Why are you using them?"

"Because they work." The man said, giving a small laugh. "Why does anyone use anything in this damn Imperium? Because it just works! Good design, proper maintenance, good prayers, and a happy machine spirit, hell, these beauties maybe got two or three thousand more years in them. This here ship's at least a good six, maybe seven thousand years old!"

Again and again and again, the strangers to this world were punched in the gut hard enough to make them dizzy. This ship was older than the pyramids of Giza if their timelines could be relatively examined.

Miles in particular wondered at everything, and the thought entered his mind again on whether the Imperium of Man was a far evolution of the UEG, or if it was another world altogether. Could humanity become this? Technologically stagnant and wary of outsiders to the point where they thought themselves above all else? His mind flew to the Covenant, and how even today they thought themselves better than anyone else, Humanity included despite being kicked in the ass seven hundred years prior. The prospect made him dizzy and he grasped onto the table for support. So long. Everything in this world lasted for so long and on a scale that he could not comprehend.

True, Mobius was a version of Earth twelve thousand years into the relative future, but in spite of that, there was very little to no recorded history of the events before the Lost Million's arrival. Before Miles' ancestors there was nothing. A mist of time on their paradise world. Here, he had learned much, and much of that he wished he hadn't.

"We keep them stored in vacuum though, just in case." the weapons master said. "Can't take any chances. What's that you're smoking? Lho-stub?"

Johnson realized he was the one being asked. He took it out of his mouth and looked at it, and then to the man. "We just call them cigars where I come from."

"Got another?"

Avery's eyebrows raised. "A couple."

He reached into a side pocket and rummaged around the half dozen he had in there and pulled a Sweet William.

"Give me one of those and I'll get you a Stalker."

Johnson had no idea what the man was talking about, and was not really willing to part with his precious sources of tobacco, which was now in limited quantity for him, but the prospect of being given something, no matter how oddly named, was appealing to him. He passed the Sweet William over.

The cigar could not be grabbed faster. The man turned it over in his hands and held it under his nose. "Oh by Terra what is that smell?"

"I know, it turns some people off."

"I fecking love it, mate!" the weapons master cried out, grabbing an incredible large hunting knife seemingly from nowhere. He sliced the end off in one quick slash, and from another table grabbed a canister with painted skulls on it. He ignited what turned out to be a blowtorch, and with cigar now placed in his mouth, lit the cut end. He greedily puffed on it until it was steadily lit. Off went the blowtorch, and on went the look of pure ecstasy as he took a long pull.

"Oh throne. By the Sororitas' breastplates it's been too long." he said, almost as if he pleasure would overwhelm him.

"Want us to come back later?" Wilcox asked, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.

"Lord Captain never lets me smoke anymore. Not a whiff of lho for months. You'd think on a tub this big someone would give me a slip."

"Why doesn't he let you smoke?" Johnson asked.

"Apparently I get angry when I smoke. May have killed a few ratings when I blew through my last pack." he shrugged, eyes drooping as he pulled in the vapors from the cigar. "You know what would go well with this..." he reached under the table and pulled out a bottle. The man first took a deep pull on the cigar, and then took an equally deep pull on the bottle, his Adam's apple oscillating on his unshaven neck.

"Jesus Christ." Wilcox said.

He released his lips, gasping in satisfaction. "Feckin' hell that's good! Hey, Lemmy!" he called back to one of the servitors. One in particular, a robotic arm with a slim male torso on top leaned over to just behind the smoking man. The speed at which it approached was shocking.

"Get the good man here something from the back. The long range stuff."

"Designate?" the servitor intoned; the voice coming from a box installed on its neck rather than from its lolling jaw.

Miles twitched. He didn't know they could talk.

"Stalker pattern."

"Affirmative." the servitor droned, disappearing down the aisle, returning twenty seconds later carrying a smaller box. It placed the cargo just behind the box holding the bolt guns. The servitor released its grip and retreated.

Once again, the weapons master punched in a code as he rolled the cigar around in his mouth. The box popped open revealing a longer version of the rifles the rest of the Marines had been gifted. It had a longer barrel, shorter magazine, and clearly looked like it had been machined relatively recently judging from the scratches on the body of the gun.

"Hello there." Johnson said absentmindedly, eyes focused on the thing in the box.

"Stalker-pattern bolt gun, sized for us mere mortals. According to legend, Imperial Army units used to carry a few of these to back up the Legions during the Crusades. Not a whole lot of these left. Maybe a million in the galaxy left, rough guess."

"Only a million?"

"In the span of a galaxy, yeah, that seems like a fecking small number I should think."

Johnson glared at the guns, taking in the smaller magazines and the scope that lay alongside the main weapon.

"Noise reducing muzzle to help mask your presence. Unless you're using Stalker rounds, that's not going to help much."

"You mean you have rockets that can be silenced?" Miles asked, eyebrows raising.

"You sound surprised." the man said, taking the gun out of its protective foam casing.

"I am." the Mobian said.

The scope was slapped onto a rail and the Stalker bolter was passed over to Johnson, who took it with fingers that trembled ever so slightly. A seventy five caliber long range rocket launcher the fired bullets that _exploded_. And it could be _suppressed._

"Where have you been all my life?" he said, marveling at the amazing weight the weapon had, Even at this size it appeared almost too large for him. The stock appeared to be an afterthought as it seemed to have less engineering than the receiver."

"Everyone happy?" The man said. "If there's nothing else, relocate your arses out of my armory. As I understand it you people need to be somewhere, so get."

Johnson stayed a second longer. "I've got to shake your hand. Avery Johnson." he said, taking the armory master's hands. "You've made me very happy."

The man shook vigorously, slightly shortened cigar bobbing in his mouth as he spoke, "Caraticus Fuller, Arch-Militant at large. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do with that Stalker, Johnson. It is a two thousand year old family heirloom after all. Treat it to a dinner and a show first. Thanks for the smoke, eh?"


	18. Chapter 17: Shifting Sands

Chapter 17: An Eon of Silence  
January 11, 3242, 0040 hours  
Parl-265d, Unknown Artifact  
Parl-265 System  
Home Universe

SCION's eye lenses quickly contracted at the sight of the sun poking over the horizon. Despite being a relatively Sol-like star, the primary of this planet was still shockingly bright. The thinner atmosphere of this world did less to dispel the radiation from this world. SCION could sense this radiation in multiple spectrums, the visible being one of them, though primarily his interest was in infrared, where the color of the star was unlike those seen by mortal men.

Mortal men besides Finitevus of course. The Doctor stood not ten paces away from him, drawn to the same sight of the sun in the sky. Though unlike Julian Kintobor, who had opted to stay in the rover for the time being, Finitevus stood exposed to the elements. The exposed fur on his face was blowing in the hot wind; his nose and mouth were without any form of protection.

SCION's internal computers worked quickly. Based on sensory information in his faceplate, he immediately pegged the external temperature at 127 degrees Fahrenheit. While this temperature was survivable for most carbon-based organics - albeit not for extended periods of time - a Mobian would find these temperatures quite uncomfortable, and some, he had observed, would succumb to heatstroke far quicker than their Human counterparts. On top of things, Finitevus wore his long coat, buttoned up to his chin, and long pants. His feet were adorned with boots that were clearly not meant for this environment. The echidna's coattails blew in the wind, and he took a deep breath.

A breath, the android observed, rich with carbon dioxide.

Despite this, the doctor exhaled as deeply as he had drawn breath. He opened his eyes. Cybernetic yellow met the hollow orbits of the advanced robot.

"Quite a day out here, is it not?"

"Affirmative." SCION responded. "Your scrubbers are working as intended?"

"It certainly seems that way. Though I must say the dust flying in the air is making it quite uncomfortable when it gusts." he smiled, anticipating a response from his companion.

"I can retrieve some fabric from the rover if you would like, Doctor." SCION offered. "Fashion a scarf?"

"No, that will not be necessary." Finitevus said, placing a restraining hand on Scion's left arm. "Thank you though."

The robot nodded. "I do as I am commanded."

That was the answer that the doctor had wanted, and it was a truthful one at that. SCION was not blind to the conditions of his existence. Finitevus was always testing SCION for emotional responses - something that recalled the personality of the dead man the android drew most of his positron matrix from. Try as he might, advanced emotions were beyond him. Reason was his driving force. Reason told him that to evoke emotion was to invite his destruction. Though he did not remember his many deaths, he had been informed on how many had occurred to him. Over one hundred failed reboots. One-hundred and twenty four, he recounted with perfect clarity. The declaration of the current attempt itself had been a test. Many of his predecessors had emotional responses to the announcement of this, and at the first cry of despair had been terminated. There had been other tests too - trigger phrases from a dossier of the dead man made to spur memories, pictures of loved ones, and even voice samples. All had failed to move him. Attempt one-hundred and twenty five had been a success.

It was good that they had pruned him of this unnecessary baggage. The shining sun's outlining of the stone pyramid would have made him silent in awe. The still white outer shell of this structure seemed to have stood the test of time after millions of years basking in the glow of this stranger star, native to a galaxy far away from them. Carvings in the stone appeared to represent a geometric language he could not decipher. He could appreciate the shape of the pyramid, the condition of the structure itself, and the logic of its construction. It appeared the people that had built this gravitated towards a wide base and narrow top - a truly universal form of foundation and mass distribution. The Square-Cube Law was a signature of existence on the canvas of life.

There was, after all, SCION rationalized, logic in wordplay.

"Ready to head down there?" he asked.

Finitevus nodded. "I'm getting antsy standing up here when a three million year old mystery is sitting in there waiting to be accessed. Are you quite certain you recall nothing of this area?"

SCION scanned through his memory banks, attempting to find the organic memory that had been digitized in his brain. He sifted through image upon image in seconds. "No. Nothing. I see nothing to suggest a method to get inside. Looks like we'll need to get creative."

The android led the slow descent down the sand dune that he, Finitevus, and a unit of Robotnik's RK-4 Drones stood on top of.

The RK-4s; the 'Pawns', were clumsy as they descended; some of them slipping and rolling down the hill. Their spheroid construction did nothing to arrest their fall. Some comically attempted to grab for outcroppings and some ragdolled as they hit hidden rocks and small dune hills. Finitevus laughed toothily, revealing sharp incisors.

"Most amusing, Doctor." SCION said superficially.

"Oh you never laugh."

"No sir, I do not." he said nonchalantly. In his own hands he carried an R-11 carbine; the same weapon that the drones were carrying. It was held tightly in his grip, though he ensured that his finger was clear off the trigger. He watched his step, making sure to distribute his weight carefully in case a strong gust blew him off-balance of displaced the earth he was standing on. At the same time, he ensured that Finitevus was kept from falling over as well.

There were small pops as below him, some of the drones' weapons discharged unintentionally.

"That might come back to bite us." the android growled. He felt no true emotion, though logic dictated that negligent discharge - ND-ing - would give away their location in an engagement. Logic dictated he act angry. Even if he couldn't feel the emotion, he could simulate it well enough. "Orders?"

"Proceed." Finitevus said curtly.

"Aye-aye."

The downed ships soon after they had entered the atmosphere told them that weapon emplacements were very likely to exist, and yet there was no reaction to their approach. This was odd; very odd indeed.

Finitevus keyed a communicator on his cuff and spoke into it, "Mister Reihner, do you read me?"

" _Loud and clear_." came the response of the mercenary.

"Are you under attack?"

There was a beat of silence before Reihner responded, " _No. Should we be?_ "

"Ah, good. No, Ambrose; everything is proceeding according to plan then. What's the status on Julian?"

"Doc Robotnik? He's just sitting around in the rover. I can see him through the window. He doesn't look happy."

"No, I'll wager he does not. That's all for now. Once we reach the bottom of the pyramid and confirm safe passage, I'll signal you to advance."

" _Hey Doc, are you sure you're OK out there without Legionnaires backing you up?_ " the mercenary asked.

"We can speak of this later, Ambrose. Just keep an eye on Julian for me."

" _Eyes peeled_."

"Out." Finitevus concluded before closing the channel.

"Legionnaires wouldn't last in these temperatures for long." SCION remarked. "There aren't enough excursion suits to go around."

"Julian's watching us. No wonder he was so upset - he just watched that bungling of movement and likely in first-person too."

"Clumsy drones." SCION growled, navigating around a rock.

"That's why I'm glad you're here. He doesn't control you."

It was true, SCION could detect no internal connection where Kintobor was overriding his senses. He was fairly certain they didn't exist within a ninety-six percent chance.

"There's still an organic basing in your mind. That's something that Julian will never understand. He wishes to replace man with machine. That's why you're a symbol of what the Legion can accomplish - transcendence with none of the weakness."

He had heard this before of course. Finitevus was quite open with SCION about his distrust for Kintobor; and from SCION's perspective, that was a logical mistrust. Julian Kintobor was a manipulator, the same as Finitevus. In their partnership, they, ironically, suspected each other of tretchery. SCION would have found this funny had he the capacity for it.

As he reached the base of the sand dune, he shouldered the carbine, bringing the rude sight up to his eye socket. He could actually see the cone of fire where his shots would end up, yet it was a tic that remained with him. He rotated the safety off, nestling it on semi-auto. He came up with zero targets, just as he expected.

Behind him, Finitevus reached into the folds of his coat and drew out a nickel-plated handgun of his own. It was an MK6 service pistol - the same type used as a sidearm for military forces. It lacked the bulbous smart-linked sight common to the Misriah handguns, and instead had a smooth top, punctuated only by small nub sights. The echidna pulled back on the slide, confirming that there was a round in the chamber. He showed no emotion as he nestled the weapon back into battery. "SCION, get these discount models back into line."

"Gladly." the android said. He trudged ahead, speaking now nonverbally to the RK-4 models.

"Get up." he communicated.

The drone was still sprawled miserably on the ground. "Order received." It signified in that dull emotionless way.

"Get half of your units behind me. There's no guarantee that there aren't weapon emplacements around the base of the pyramid."

The drone quickly got to its feet. If it was possible, it appeared stupid looking. Judging from the 'conversation', it quite possibly was. SCION preferred the Legionnaires. Even though some were quite stupid, they were organically stupid. These ones were lacking by design.

"Affirmative." The drone communicated. "Allocating units Alpha-891, Epsilon-883, Mu-4177, and Rho-1212 to unit designate commander's rear guard."

The way it spoke was almost insultingly artificial. Regardless, the drones, caked with dust, took their positions behind SCION. The remainder were at his flanks. The android was exposed at the front with no shielding from the lesser models. As long as they were subservient to him, he would manage.

Finitevus joined them, handgun clutched in one hand and the second hand blocking a gust of wind from throwing sand grains up his nose. While he could breathe in these atmospheric conditions, it was still not a point of comfort to him.

"We circle the base." SCION announced. "Ready, doctor?"

"I trust in your observations." Finitevus nodded. "Stop if you locate a point of entry."

"Understood." he said verbally. To Robotnik's pawns, he commed, "Move out."

The pyramid was quite massive. Hundreds of feet on each side. From orbit, it appeared to be four sided, though on the ground, it appeared to actually be octagonal. Approximately halfway around each 'side' was a subtle edge. It wasn't large enough to noticeably change the shape of the pyramid itself, though it was unexpected, and SCION was surprised he did not see the change in the geometry. He wondered just what else he wasn't seeing about this thing.

Finitevus noted that there was some sort of distortion on the bricks. At first, he believed it to simply be the grains on the surface of the stone. However, that didn't make sense as the overall integrity of the pyramid was immaculate. As they moved, he tried to take a moment to see what was on each brick. He leaned in, his eyes whirring and focusing on what was there. He realized he was looking at some form of text, not written, but engraved into the stone, and fairly deep too. Judging from the sharpness and depth, it was not created by rough tools, but by, he suspected, fine machining.

"Well look at this." he said out loud.

SCION stopped. "The text?"

"You saw it?"

"Yes, but I can't decipher it; not important."

"On the contrary. It's very important." Finitevus said. "It tells us a little about who built this place."

SCION took a few steps towards the echidna, weapon dangling from one armored hand. "Doctor, with all due respect, this isn't really the place we want to stop and conduct archaeology."

"No primitive civilization would go through this much effort to construct this pyramid on a dead world. Is this a signature of a construction worker? Perhaps a prayer for whatever is inside? The deeds of this civilization? Mathematical formulae? The Great Pyramid of Giza was noted to be in resonance with heavenly movements."

"Nobody's buried here." SCION said. "The _geas_ implies this location is connected with the Prisoner in some way. This could be the foreman's shopping list for all we know. Maybe that one means beer." he pointed to a line of looping text."

"Are you making a joke, SCION?" Finitevus asked, eyebrow cocked.

"You hear me laughing, sir?" the android said deadpan, continuing his walk.

There was a roar somewhere in the distance. SCION's rifle raised. Even the drones could sense potential danger and began to spread out, weapons up in the general direction of the noise.

"I thought you said this was a dead world." SCION said.

"Just a desert creature." he assured his guard. The android noted that the Legionnaire had not even drawn his sidearm.

"Sounded big though."

Now Finitevus took the lead. "If we're done worrying about nothing, then perhaps we can finish our circling of the base?"

It didn't take long to find what they were looking for. Ten minutes of slow walking later, SCION ordered his unit to halt with a raised fist. He slung his weapon and approached the wall of the pyramid. To the average observer, there wouldn't be much to give away the door, but the android's eyes were greater than the average observer. The advanced cameras combed every microfissure found patterns among the rock, eliminating oddities and outliers before he was able to confirm beyond any shadow of a doubt that the door was right in front of him.

"This is it." he announced.

"Wonderful." Finitevus smiled toothily.

"Closed tight though. I'm not seeing anything that might be a mechanism."

"There were Forerunner teams here before us though. Perhaps they could have located a way to get inside."

"Good theory," SCION said as he kicked around some sand to see what was underneath, "but that was a hundred thousand years ago, and a lot of things could have happened since then. We searched whatever we could find, and this planet is not located among the Lifeworker archives."

"I wonder why." Finitevus said, almost absently.

SCION stopped hacking at the dirt, noticing that the bottom of his foot revealed a metal floor. After a quick examination, he noted that the floor seemed to mesh perfectly with the pyramid. Finitevus saw this though and got excited.

"This is bigger than we thought." he said breathlessly, and not because of the atmospheric content. "We have to get in."

SCION tried to get the tips of his fingers into the crack of the stone, but stopped after he realized that there was no point in doing so. They didn't fit.

"Can't do it." he said. "This thing closes nearly flush.

"That's alright." Finitevus said. "Finish the search for weapons emplacements, and then I'm going to make a call."

* * *

Thirty minutes after that statement had been made, the compliment of rovers appeared over the lip of the crater. The eight-wheeled vehicles bounced on generous suspension as they descended to the floor where the pyramid was. Their wheels spun at varying rates to either increase or lower their speed. Crimson sand formed rooster tails in the air and the wheels maneuvered the imperfections in the landscape with grace.

Finitevus watched them approach with pride. He had been lucky to secure these rovers from an Outer Colony that had shared his dislike for the UEG. He had been given them as a gift, assuming that they were put to good use against the UNSC. Finitevus had assured him that they would be as long as the production centers would help him in his effort. They had agreed, and these particular vehicles had been tested in battle before in battle. They were as good as they had been advertized.

That being said, he had asked Julian to modify some of the design aspects to make them more useful to their missions. Part of that had been in the cannon that had been fastened to their roofs.

This was a massive long range siege cannon that turned each rover potentially into self-propelled artillery, and if it was one thing Robotnik excelled at, it was focusing on heavy weaponry to capitalize on shock and awe. That was good, because his small unit tactics knowledge was far weaker. Finitevus had once held Albion in his grasp. He almost took it for himself almost single-handedly too.

However, he shut down that particular memory of being defeated right before the end and brought himself back to the present. He located the particular rover he had been inside earlier and dialed it up.

" _Boss._ " Reihner said evenly.

"Mister Reihner, I'll need you to position yourself about ten feet from our positions, facing directly towards the pyramid's wall. Any deviation could affect what we're about to do."

Reihner didn't answer, but began to control the rover. The large vehicle began to reposition itself, and he placed himself exactly where he was required to do, though he frequently adjusted his position through small point turns. It only took him a few minutes though to announce that he was where he was needed.

Finitevus began to quiver ever-so-slightly in anticipation. "Good. Exellent. Are you sure you're outside the kill radius?"

" _I think I am, but you may want to come back aboard. Respectfully, I think the shockwave might be a bit much for you._ "

"Yes, quite. I'm feeling quite taxed out here now. I'll need to clear my airways anyhow. Lower the entry hatch, if you please."

The rover dropped one of its hatches. Its bottom hinge assured that it fell in a way to create a ramp. Inside the alcove, now exposed to the hostile air, was an external airlock door. Finitevus made his way into the airlock and cycled through, first taking a deep breath of the oxygenated air, and then coughing violently, his throat coated with dust. Reihner came down a staircase from the driver's cabin. Finitevus regarded him and saw that his T-shirt was tighter over his body and that he sported far more muscle mass than when he saw him only hours before. In addition, his eyes were nearly entirely black - the white sclera being visible around the pitch-dark iris and pupil.

"Have you been using?"

"You were gone for hours. I had to find something to do."

"Be careful, Ambrose. Your previous employers may have tolerated drug use while on the clock, but right now I need you clear-minded."

Reihner's angled face - which was normally oval-shaped - was creased with annoyance, but the gaze from Finitevus was enough to shut him up.

"Get me some water, and I'll tell you what to do."

Reihner nodded, and half a minute later, he handed a cold bottle to the echidna.

Finitevus took a seat near the airlock and screwed the cap open, taking a generous swig of the liquid within.

"How's the weather out there?" Reihner asked, arms crossed over his massive chest.

"Dismal." the scientist said. "Temperature is almost too hot for the dermal enhancements to handle. Thank God this planet has a decent magnetosphere or I'm sure I would have gotten cancer out there. Don't get me started on the air."

"I didn't think Legionnaires got cancer." Reihner joked, showing perfect teeth.

"Not for long." the Mobian said. He took another drag on the bottle, cleared his throat, and said, "Here's what I want you to do: I want you to blow the ever-living hell out of that pyramid face."

Reihner's laugh was one of surprise. "Could you say that again, boss? I don't think I've ever heard you put it like that before."

"You heard me. Give that thing everything you have. As fast as it can cycle. We haven't found a way in, but I'll make a way."

"I'll get right on it." the Human nodded. "Better hold on. This is going to get loud."

He left Finitevus on the seat and returned back to the cabin, climbing the staircase back to the driver's seat. The computers in front of him displayed information about the rover which included fuel, engine temperature, atmospheric integrity, and the status of the artillery cannon. Reihner took a seat and tapped several controls. The first of which lowered braces from the main body of the vehicle to the ground on each side of the body. The second control hydraulically placed a similar pair of braces, but far more massive, from the rear. They thumped into the sand, and as soon as they did so, Ambrose increased hydraulic pressure to keep them in place. The last thing that he did was power up the cannon proper. He slid a power bar from left to right on the cannon's status window, diverting power from the drive system to the weapon system. Though the rover was capable of firing on the go, he did not believe that movement was going to be necessary for this action.

The cannon raised up from its housing. The front half of the barrel extended like a spyglass, nearly doubling the size. From his own rover, Dr. Robotnik watched what was happening. He walked to his own communications console and got in contact with SCION.

"What's going on down there?" he demanded.

" _Your guess is as good as mine. I said I couldn't get in. The good doctor has another option it seems_."

Robotnik growled, annoyed that he wasn't involved in this decision. He closed the channel and immediately called Finitevus.

" _Yes, Julian_?"

"What the hell are you getting at, Benjamin?"

" _Just getting the master key out_."

"Have you considered that maybe this will cause damage to whatever we're looking for?"

" _No, Julian. This facility is far larger than our initial research suggests. If I am correct, this pyramid is in fact a simple atrium or antechamber._ "

"Are you sure?"

" _As sure as I can be without cracking it open_."

"I'm putting a stop to this."

" _You'll do nothing. No, you'll wait is what you're going to do. Ambrose, ring the bell_."

The cannon's sound was audible even within the cabin where Robotnik stood. The shockwave rumbled all the vehicles. Kintobor saw that SCION had taken cover behind Finitevus' rover, so he was spared much of the surge of heated air, sound, and sand. However, his drones were less well-prepared. Sand and boulders were propelled like bullets, striking several of them. Larger rocks were like eight-pound cannonballs, as if hurled from a galleon. These projectiles sheared large portions of their bodies off, while others lost their balance and were tossed about on the wind. To make matters even better, the massive forty centimeter shell was launched only a distance of a couple hundred feet. Though the shape of the pyramid deflected much of the superheated air and shell fragments, a good portion blew back towards the attacker.

The force of the shot caused the suspension to buck, and even with the stabilizers buried in the sand, the rover raised up ever-so-slightly on its front two wheels.

The pyramid itself was obscured by sand and smoke. Though the wind eventually began to blow it away, the sheer mass of the clouds made the process take minutes.

" _Goddamn I love that._ " Ambrose said over the open calms.

" _I think one of my brothers felt that_." SCION quipped.

" _Well done, Mister Reihner!_ " Finitevus said. " _Dead-on accuracy!_ "

"Easy to be dead-on when the damn target is a building right in front of you." Kintobor said under his breath.

Nobody commented though when the smoke finally cleared and revealed the pyramid in the golden sunlight. The spot where the shell had impacted seemed visibly damaged, though the face was still very much intact, stubborn as it had been for millions of years.

"Well look at that." Robotnik smiled. "Guess that didn't work out well."

* * *

Finitevus saw this result from the cabin of his rover. His features were pressed together in anger. His eyes literally glowed in anger, and his teeth were bared. He slammed a fist into the console.

"Hey, easy with that!" Reihner said. "There's a shit-ton of electronics in there!"

"Fire again!" he commanded.

"I can fire until the cows come home. That only looks like a scratch, and I'll only put a scratch in it, especially with our cyclical rate."

"I told you to fire the cannon!"

Reihner sighed, and switched the weapon's firing mode to automatic, and then pulled the trigger on his joystick.

The cannon barked five times in succession, each time, a forty centimeter shell was ejected from the chamber, twirling in the air. The nearly half-meter shell impacted the ground with a hollow ringing, as if a small bell had been rung. Again, the pyramid was revealed, and again, there was no hole in the surface.

"SCION, investigate that impact area!" he commanded.

Outside, he could see the android jogged forward, looking around to make sure they weren't attacked by something. He reached the pyramid and turned back to the rover.

" _Minimal damage_." he reported.

"Oh for the love of God." Finitevus said, rubbing his eyes. "We're right there."

"You know boss, we do have a bunch of rovers..."

"...with as many cannons!" Finitevus realized. "Brilliant, Ambrose!" he said before tapping his cuff communicator. "All units converge on this location. Set up in line formation adjacent to the rover in front of the pyramid. Additional instructions will be relayed upon arrival. Out."

This took far longer to accomplish. One by one, rovers appeared over the lip of the ridge as if they were large animals charging towards a food source. They moved with great speed; their divers realizing the urgency in the echidna's voice. Nearly all of these rovers were packed with Legionnaires. It was always Finitevus' intention to send a task force into the pyramid and secure anything that was of value. This was just speeding up the process.

The Mobian himself supervised each placement of the rovers, specifically made so that not only would their fields of fire overlap, but that any shrapnel would not damage the artillery cannons.

It took thirty minutes for a reasonable formation to be established. Every rover needed to be moved back to allow for the arc to form. From above, it almost appeared like rays of a sun that was just on top of the alien structure.

Then they all fired in unison, and with everything in their battery. From a distance, it would have been like a volcanic eruption. The fire and smoke from the salvo cleared the sand around them, whipping it around like a whirlwind in the temperature difference caused by the attack. Shells flung into the air and clanged against the exposed alien metal beneath their tires, and shockwaves buffeted the vehicles as well as their occupants. Shelling continued for several seconds. The rovers were never designed for this sort of action, and soon a call indicating a malfunction went out. One of the cannons had overheated and warped the chamber. The 40cm shell within had failed to eject, creating a jam in the mechanism.

Finitevus ignored this call, but soon a second and a third went out, the latter of which was most notable as within three seconds of the vehicle failing to fire another round, the intended shell exploded in the chamber, cooked off by the intense heat. The cannon ripped apart in a massive fireball. Half a second after that, the remaining ammunition in the massive magazine store went off, eviscerating the vehicle. Shards of metal flew in all directions, some of them puncturing holes in some of their armor. Oxygen streamed out in small grey puffs, and additional calls for damage control went out. The firing stopped, and the dust began to clear.

When Finitevus saw that the pyramid still stood without a dent in the exterior, he lost his balance and fell back into the chair.

"We just lost forty men." he said while putting a hand to his forehead. "And we didn't even so much as put a coin-sized hole through it."

Reihner brought up a screen and magnified the target zone. He increased the field as best he could without sacrificing resolution. "Boss, I could be wrong about this, but I think that pyramid is fixing itself.

Finitevus looked at the screen. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but then he actually saw it. The material they had exposed by the barrage was slowly sealing itself back up.

"I don't believe it." he breathed. "No wonder this thing was able to survive three million years and look brand new."

"So what do we do now?" Reihner said, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a vial of viscous blue liquid. He rolled it around in his hands and stared at it longingly."

"We won't try that again." was all the echidna could say.

"I'll say. Rovers two, six, and nine are reporting weapons malfunction. The barrels are in bad shape. Should have staggered that firing. Rover two and four are reporting hull breaches, but they're already patching those up."

"Rover three?"

"Gone with all hands." Reihner said without a trace of sympathy.

"God damn it." the echidna said. "Give me a few moments. We'll think of something."

Julian had already thought of something. He too noticed that the material on the pyramid was self-repairing, and he guessed that the bigger the damage, the more it would take to repair in terms of resources and time. It was the perfect solution. He considered what he had said before over the communications channel, but he preferred to be pragmatic over consistent. He turned back to his communicator and dialed up his flagship in orbit. Somewhere above them, a small fleet was tumbling around Parl-265d, waiting for instruction. His glasses flashed at the enjoyment this was about to bring him.

"Orders, Doctor?" a drone responded.

"I need a firing vector on a specified target." he explained. "High yield, high speed. I want this thing leveled if need be."

"Weapon designation?" The drone responded.

"KKV."

"Confirmed; stand by."

A Kinetic Kill Vehicle. What a wonderful term, and so simple. What was essentially a large metal pole with thrusters on it. Not explosive, not radioactive, but chock full of enough mass and energy transfer that at nearly ten times the speed of sound on impact, it may as well have been a nuke. Somewhere far above the planet's surface, a launch bay door was opening. The kill vehicle was slowly lowered on a guiding arm into the vacuum, and was simply given a little shove into the void. There it would slowly drop away from the flagship, its only adornments being fins to stabilize its descent, and thrusters, which activated at this time. The thrusters slowed the weapon down, which gave the impression the flagship and the fleet were speeding on ahead, leaving it on a parabolic trajectory towards the planet. A minute after its descent was slowed to the point where there was no altering its path, the thrusters blew off to give the weapon the best possible profile to enter the atmosphere. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

"You did what?!" Finitevus roared into the radio.

" _And we have maybe an hour, perhaps two at the most before that slug impacts the pyramid._ " Kintobor said seriously. " _Those cannons were doing nothing to that external structure. I chose to escalate_."

Finitevus rubbed his brow with thumb and forefinger. If it was one thing that Robotnik knew best, it was how to throw out the heavy punches in the first round. The Mobian sincerely hoped that they wouldn't need those slugs for later. He knew of course that they were on board their ships. They had even used them on a few occasions. The destructive capability was breath-taking. It was weapons like these that proved to the world in the past that limiting warfare in space only works for those already on the ground. Julian had forwarded the real-time location of the kill vehicle to Finitevus, so he could observe the estimated time to impact. As soon as he had received the news, he had ordered all of the rovers to pull back to the conservative estimation for a safe zone. The rovers were proofed for radioactivity on harsh airless surfaces, but the force from this weapon was in its kinetic energy. This would be like a small meteor hitting the ground. As soon as they had received confirmation that the projectile was on its way, the entire surviving fleet had accelerated as much as they were capable. By now they were several miles away from the pyramid; the structure itself no longer visible within its crater. Julian had probably taken the location into consideration as well.

"You know this could destroy everything, right?"

" _If what I saw was true, this entire structure extends far beneath the sand. That pyramid is only the antechamber of a far larger structure._ "

"You have no guarantee of that."

" _This civilization has to be powerful if they have information on the Prisoner. Maybe these were survivors that escaped from whatever ravaged their home galaxy_."

"That's speculation, and you know it." Finitevus said sharply.

" _Benjamin, this entire expedition is an exercise in acting on speculation. We found this pyramid based on a dead man's hallucination._ "

"You are a scientist, Kintobor. You don't act on speculation."

" _Well, I speculate that slug is going to make landfall in less than fifteen minutes. You're not getting into that pyramid with conventional weapons, and the structure's defenses destroyed our ships when we got close. This is the only choice we have in breaching that structure._ "

Finitevus gripped at his chair hand rests, his teeth grinding loudly, and his eye lenses focusing and dilating constantly. He thought he was going to give himself an aneurysm.

"If this doesn't work..."

" _You'll do what? Turn me into a Legionnaire? Send me back to High Moon_?"

No, Finitevus thought. In his mind the first thing he saw was Julian Kintobor's pince-nez glasses. I'm going to take his eyes, he thought. Ironic how a man who named himself 'Robotnik' didn't have a single augmentation in his body. They would need to fix that.

Fourteen minutes and thirty seconds later, a javelin from heaven cut across the sky, igniting the air around it as it forced its way through Parl-265d's thick atmosphere. It shunted aside clouds, and a cone of superhot flame lapped around the object that was the slender kinetic kill weapon.

Finitevus couldn't help but be in awe as he saw the column of fire streak towards the ground. A small part of him wondered if this was what it was like for their targets. Only a handful of times had these slugs been used to force compliance from small populations; to make them Legionnaires by force. Never had he seen it from the ground.

He didn't see the slug impact. The streak of fire landed directly where he assumed the pyramid was.

The sky turned white above the orange sands. The clouds vanished as a new sphere of compressed air reached up and out. It was only a matter of time before the effects were not seen, but felt.

"Lock down, now!" he ordered everyone. The rovers quickly deployed their supports intended for their cannons. Ironically, they were now being forced to defend against the mother of all incoming fire.

The pressure wave from the impact leveled the sand ridge in front of the rovers. The thundering sound would have instantly deafened and possibly killed any unprotected observer. Each grain of sand became a bullet, blasted at thousands of miles an hour. The rovers were struck by the resulting storm of granular glass. Some were hit almost broadside by the torrent of sand, and one was blown over by the speed and kinetic ferocity, tumbling along down the uneven ground; pushed along by the wind. The others held steady though, their direction affording the least surface area.

Finitevus gripped the side of his chair, his teeth gritted and eyes closed. Reihner did similar, though he tried to see the point of impact, through the obstructed window. The sound of the sand bashing off the viewscreen was almost like being under a waterfall. A large toothy smile crossed his face as he exhaled in awe.

One rover over, Julian Kintobor made no reaction, and instead he phoned in the confirmation of the strike, requesting that the cruiser in orbit wait for a report that the strike was successful in its intent.

SCION on the other hand wondered if they had gone just a hair too far.

The winds died down after a few moments, and the dust dissipated. On the horizon, a cloud of vapor and vaporized silicates rose through the air, forming a crude approximation of a nuclear mushroom cloud.

"Well, that did it." Reihner said.

"I don't want to hear it, Mister Reihner." Finitevus breathed, keying the microphone. "Julian, move up, and confirm that the pyramid has been penetrated."

Penetrated? Kintobor thought that this sort of action would result in a bit more than a hole in the outer structure. Regardless, he ordered the helmsman to disengage the brakes. The rover slowly began to move on stressed suspension. The wheels began to turn and expel sand and for a moment, it seemed to get stuck. The driver downshifted and managed to free the vehicle from the sand. It slowly crept up the hill in front of it, and five agonizing minutes later, the rover broke the top of the hill. There was silence over the communication channels. Silence for a full minute.

"Julian, report!" Finitevus demanded.

Kintobor however could not stop laughing merrily. Miles ahead of the rovers, the entire landscape was swept clean, revealing the entire ground covered in silvery metal with carvings stretching from exposed end to exposed end. Directly in the middle, where the pyramid stood, was a gaping hole.

"Julian!" Finitevus roared.

" _Pyramid's gone_." Robotnik reported.

"What?!" the echidna cried.

" _We have a way in now, though!_ "

"I'm going to kill him, Ambrose. I'm going to ring his neck." the Legionnaire said privately.

" _Best shift it into high gear though_." The Overlander added. " _If you don't feel that rumbling now, you will in a moment_!"

"Rumbling?"

" _Well Benjamin, that's not an earthquake. I think that's the wildlife._ "

"Wildlife?"

Finitevus suddenly felt a tremor, then another. Confused and suddenly anxious, he activated the rear cameras of the rover. Far behind them, the sand displaced, heaving upward, as if something beneath the sand was heading towards them. He was horrified at first, but then he saw another, then another, and before long, he had lost count.

Before he could give the order to advance, the sand parted, and a massive coil of chitin, bone, and anger burst from the sand. It rose five stories into the air, and then gazed down at them. Nobody said a word, but the creature opened its limpet-like mouth, exposed dozens of rows of sharp teeth, and roared.


End file.
